A Fresh Rain
by ira-gula-superbia
Summary: It has been over a year since the Titans put the Brotherhood of Evil on ice and saved Tokyo, and things have been quiet. That quiet is about to come to an end. Rated M for language, suggestive content, and violence.
1. Back in Business

**We do not own the rights to the Teen Titans or any affiliated characters.**

* * *

**Premiani Penthouse, Haney Apartments. Jump City. 2247 Hours. 18 JULY 2014**

In the dark of the night, Jump City's lights glowed in buildings and along streets, staunch defenders against the encroaching gloom, signalmen of life's presence. Overlooking their amber burn, high above the roads and the cumbersome transports that trundled along them, was a pale, trim woman. A dark dress that seemed to hold the cosmos in its design swept along her body, tying behind her neck to leave her shoulders and arms bare. The hem pulled up short in the front, revealing a part of her shins and her heels, but slithered across the floor behind her as she shifted her weight. Wrapped about her slender neck was a thick collar of white fur and the hand, cradling the long-stemmed wine flute in delicate fingers, rested against it. Ebony hair, to contrast her smooth, porcelain skin, was piled atop her head, interwoven with silvery threads. Her bearing was regal as she stood poised at the large window, her unoccupied arm folded beneath her modest bosom. Hazel eyes flickered over the city, and as she gazed at the lights in the windows, a small pink tongue licked over her full lips.

Finally, she turned and approached the line of men and women who were forced to kneel upon the tiled floor of the penthouse apartment, stripped of their attire save for their undergarments. Murderous rage painted their features, but their wrists and ankles were bound together behind their backs with biting cord that had started to strip away the flesh of the more violent members of the assembly. Standing watch over them with too-blue eyes was a broad, ugly man who had jammed a wool cap over the top of his head. A canvas jacket was pulled over his thick frame and hung open, revealing the crimson t-shirt beneath it. His cargo pants were tucked into heavy workman boots that were ferociously scuffed and bore some rather ominous stains.

"_Buona sera, signore e signori,_" said the woman as she set her thin glass on a nearby counter. "I am Alondra Arnetti. You may have heard of me."

"Arnetti?" one of them whispered, fear in his eyes. "You-You're -"

"I have also been called the Vulture. I'll accept either," she said, eyes glittering. "And you are the crime lords of Jump City. I thought it was about time we meet - _cara a cara_."

"Listen, I don't care what stupid name you call yourself, you dumb cunt, but if you don't untie me right now, my boys are going to hunt you down and make you -"

Alondra's expression was bored as the thickly muscled man spewing threats suddenly had his face, without any warning or preamble, smashed into the floor, producing a large snap as his nose broke. He gave a short scream as Alondra's brutish comrade dragged him back into a kneeling position and nodded to his employer. She gave a short smile and continued, "Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I would like to turn your attention to more pressing matters. _Parliamo di business. _A few months ago, I came to your _bella citta_ and found it deprived of the unique market I provide. I immediately remedied this, and while it has been slow, like any start is, it's steadily growing."

She paused, taking in the scowling men and women before her, and then continued with mock apology, "_Ahora_, we need to expand, and I have realized something. There are too many cooks in this kitchen, but that is no fault of my own. I had a way to solve our problems. _Un remedio_. I dispatched messengers to you with offers– and despite a certain, wise adage; they kept winding up with bullets in them. Thus, I was forced to take the drastic measures we currently find ourselves in."

"You were demanding a fifteen percent cut of all our profits!" snapped a heavyset woman with a short mop of curly red hair. "What did you think was going to happen?!"

"_Le discussioni. _Civil discourse," she shrugged daintily. Her features turned serious and she stressed, "And it's not too late for that. I will forgive your transgressions and welcome you into the fold for a mere seventeen percent payment from all your profits."

"Excuse me, but I would like to point out that there are – ten, eleven, twelve– there are sixteen of us, each with our own gangs and such, but there is only one of you," noted a handsome, athletically sculpted man. He gave a charming smile, "I hate to upset a pretty girl, but I think you may want to consider the odds again."

Alondra nodded as though considering the statement before her hand suddenly flashed towards her wine flute. She smashed the glass against the table while her enforcer seized the man and tilted his head back. He struggled vainly as Alondra forced the stem up his nostril, pushing past the momentary barrier with a sickening crunch as she plunged it into his brain. His struggles suddenly ceased and the dark-haired woman leaned over him, watching the light fade from his eyes and giving a toothy grin before she released him, leaving the glass stem in place. Shifting his grip, her compatriot bodily cast the carcass out of the line. Straightening, Alondra gazed at the remaining criminal kingpins, smoothed out her dress, and made her next offer.

"Twenty percent."

Nobody responded as they exchanged uneasy glances, occasionally peering back towards the corpse before inadvertently catching the unnatural gaze of the broad-shouldered man. Massaging her temples, she sighed, "Look, none of you are stupid. Not completely. I mean, while every other lackwit was running around in their pajamas, playing 'King of the Mountain' with a bunch of _ninos_, you turned to subtler crimes – and that's benefitted you. Now, with all those _perdedores_ on ice, where do you think the Twerp Titans are going to look next?"

"What are you suggesting?" asked one of them cautiously.

"Symbiosis," she said, meshing her hand together. "You will continue on your business and me on my own, with the payment we discussed, and I will ensure you remain untroubled by the Titans."

"If you've got as much strength as you seem to think you have, why don't you just kill the Titans?"

"_Tal vez sobrestimado su inteligencia_," she muttered before drawing in a fortifying breath. She answered, "I don't know if any of you idiots have noticed, but the superhero community is rather close-knit, and they do not appreciate when one of their number is killed. If at all possible, I'd like to avoid bringing the Justice League down on my head."

There was another moment of silence and exchanged glances, including one of suffering between Alondra and her companion who shrugged apologetically, and finally there were scattered agreements. However, the stout woman with red hair scoffed, "You're all a bunch of pussies. This bitch doesn't -"

The large man casually placed a hand atop the woman's head and rested another upon her shoulder before dispassionately twisting her neck about with a sickening crack. He casually tossed her onto the other body and said, "All further disparagements made concerning the boss babe shall from henceforth result in the transgressor's sudden cessation of life."

"_Gracias_, Cash," she beamed. "Now please release our guests who have accepted the offer and point them towards their clothes and the exit. Oh, and please send for a murder of my _Carogne Uccelli_."

"I shall convey the missive," he nodded as he kneeled behind the first proponent to undo the sturdy knots. As he did, he whispered instructions into the man's ear, along with what he felt to be a suitable number of threats, and finally released him. The pale, trembling man bolted for the door as Cash shifted to the next person in line, and began the process anew.

While he worked through those who had agreed to the arrangements, Alondra strutted towards the kitchen of the lavish apartment and pulled a new flute from one of the cabinets. She considered the wine shelf before pulling out a heavy, red wine that she filled the glass with and then returned to her captives, only the staunch holdouts remaining with their shoulders square and their jaws set. Alondra regarded them until the door finally opened and dark, armored figures slid into the room, their boots whispering across the floor.

She smiled at her Carrion Birds, her _Carogne Uccelli_ with their faces hidden behind beaked masks, and said, "These are the fools who have refused my generous offer. You know what to do."

Steely talons dug into skin as the flock dragged away the captives who thrashed in vain, violent struggles, merely gouging the cord about their wrists and ankles deeper into their flesh. They roared obscenities at the pale woman who gave a small smile and took a long draught from her glass. After the dark-garbed figures had disappeared with their captives, Alondra looked to Cash and said, "Ensure that their men see what happens to those who dare to stand against me."

"Consider it wrought, boss babe," he nodded before lumbering from the room.

* * *

**Premiani Penthouse. 0319 Hours. 19 JULY 2014**

Several hours later found Alondra once again admiring the city as they crawled towards the dawn, a new drink in her hand. Cash lounged on a nearby couch, hammering at the buttons of a handheld game console as he urged his character onward before pausing and looking up suddenly. The game flickered into the long sleeves of his jacket as he rocked onto his feet and announced, "Doc Sanders and the neophyte avian are approaching the ingress of our domicile."

"'Ingress?' _En serio_?" she smirked, arching a brow as she turned to regard him.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and said, "It's a good word."

"Oh, I'm sure. Let them in," she instructed.

As the door to the penthouse swung open, two people entered the lavish domain. The first was a handsome, dark-skinned man with a clean-shaven head and a well-kept goatee, attired in scrubs and a long, white coat. He was supported by an ornate cane and his entry was cautious, taking great care to avoid provoking any of the inhabitants, and he exchanged a companionable nod with Cash.

At the newcomer's side was one of the _Cargone Uccelli_, clad in the foreboding body armor the group wore, covered in pouches and scalpels. On her breastplate was the small image of a vulture's silhouette, a star floating over its head. Her face was obscured by a beaked mask, like those of ancient plague doctors, with crimson lenses for its eyes. Nimble fingers were tipped with scalpel-like talons that gleamed cruelly in the light of the moon reaching through the windows that formed the exterior wall. She was not particularly tall, but she carried herself with a fearless swagger and a presence to match the looming bodyguard who posted next to Alondra as she faced her subordinates.

"It's all taken care of?" she asked.

The pair shared a short glance before the man took a breath and said, "Yes, Ms. Arnetti. Everything has been catalogued, sorted, and stored."

"_Gracias_, Dr. Sanders," she nodded before looking towards her protector.

"Digital documentation has been delivered to the requested audiences," he informed her.

She smiled and took a long sip from her glass, sighing contentedly as she lowered it. Turning to the city again, she looked out across the now-darkened windows and her gaze drifted towards the peculiarly shaped tower seated in the bay. Her gaze slid to the reflections in the window and she said, "_Signora_ Krahen."

"Ma'am," the armored woman responded sharply and snapped to attention.

"_Signore_ Corvin spoke highly of you when he recommended you for this position. Are you prepared to lead my _Cargone Uccelli_?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered. Her voice was firm and resolute though turned somewhat hollow by her mask.

Alondra smiled and turned, "No hesitation. _Buona_. We will need that. This city holds an enemy we have been fortunate thus far to avoid: Superheroes."

"Garishly adorned vigilantes," Cash grunted.

"_Vero_. However, do not think we can underestimate them. They regularly thwarted Slade Wilson's plots, and, just last year, defeated the 'Brotherhood of Evil,'" she said.

"Anybody adopting that abomination of an appellation deserves castigation of a predominantly physical nature," grumbled the large man.

"Are you through practicing your alliteration?"

He gave a thumbs up, "Floor's yours, boss babe."

"_Gracias_," she rolled her eyes before continuing, "Their presence means we will have to operate with greater care than usual, but I do have a plan that will make it easier. We cannot afford to make mistakes, and money will be tight for a time. Therefore, nothing can be wasted. Not a slice, not a stroke, not a single drop of blood. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Krahen snapped while the disgraced surgeon beside her nodded.

"Have you managed to contact the Taipan?" the dark-haired woman asked suddenly, looking to the brute looming at her side.

He shrugged, "There is not so much as a susurration concerning his whereabouts and status."

"I am beginning to suspect that you're making up words, Cashy."

"Susurration; noun. A soft murmur; whisper."

"What have we said about reading the dictionary?" she scolded with a mocking smile.

"Given your inability to express yourself in lucid English, I am incognizant."

"_Io parlo inglese bene_. Maybe you should try learning another language instead of digging up words that should have stayed dead and buried_._"

The debate was interrupted by a polite cough and the shining eyes swung towards Dr. Sanders who grimaced and asked, "Do you, uh, do you need us for anything else?"

"No," said the dark-haired woman. "You are free to go."

"Have a good nigh – morning, Miss Arnetti. Cash," he nodded to both and then turned to depart. Krahen offered a sharp salute that the crime lord accepted with a curt nod before she turned sharply and left the odd pair to the apartment. With a pleased hum, the pale woman turned towards her window again and smiled as she gazed across the cityscape.

"_Bello. _I will never grow tired of this view," she mused softly.

Cash approached her shoulder, peering down towards the distant street and said, "At some juncture, I wish to defenestrate an interloper of some sort from this vantage."

"You would allow a fool to get that close to me?"

She pouted up at him and her hand stroked his thick neck, cradling his heavy jaw as she felt the thrumming beneath his rough skin and he frowned, considering the window longingly. Finally, he sighed, "Course not, boss babe."

"_Bravo ragazzo_, Cash," she smiled, reaching up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. She leaned against him, draining the final drops from her glass and staring at it sadly as though commanding it to fill up once again. When it refused her mental commands, she crossed her arms and studied the dark buildings.

A city was a living thing, a great beast that devoured its own citizens to survive. Industry and commerce was its heart and blood vessels while the structures, from the towering skyscrapers to the lowly hovels, were the teeth grindings its prey to nothing. Streets were simply the digestive track, shuffling the people to where the great beast needed them. As her thoughts turned hazy and she began to droop against Cash, her full lips pulled into a predatory grin as she murmured, "And I shall feast until I have picked its bones clean."

* * *

**Main Room, Titan's Tower. 1351 Hours. 20 JULY 2014**

"Bored. Bored, bored, bored. Bored, bored-bored-bored. Boredboredboredbored-"

"Garfield," Raven snapped, interrupting her verdant teammate's rhythmic rambling. "Unless you wish to find yourself in a dimension of endless pain and fire, I suggest you either find a means of entertaining yourself or keep quiet."

"At least it'd be more exciting than this," he gestured to the Tower's predominantly empty main room, bathed in the afternoon sun. He lounged upside down upon the couch, his head hanging over its edge while his feet dangled over its back. Beside him, the grey-skinned sorceress had been attempting to work through one of her tomes before the chant had invaded her head and every darkly inked word had started looking the same.

Following their trip to Tokyo, Robin and Starfire had entered a relationship, rather tentatively, and the former of the pair was surprisingly anxious about public displays between himself and the object of his affection. To the latter's consternation, the Boy Wonder only consented to days out in the city with a pair of holorings that Cyborg had been commissioned to craft. The resident tech genius was, once again, lavishing his car with attention, and with no end in sight, the young changeling was left without a comrade willing to indulge in their mutual interests. Crime seemed to be going the way of the dinosaurs with all but a few of the Brotherhood of Evil still imprisoned, and the mere presence of the Titans discouraging others from taking up their roles. They had yet to face any superhuman or supernatural threat since the strange, adapting creature, and Slade seemed to have disappeared.

"You would rather the city be under threat by some intergalactic warlord?" she asked.

Beast Boy hesitated before admitting, "Okay, maybe not that bored. But seriously, this is kinda ridiculous. Is it too much to ask for just one little bank robbery, or some sorta natural disaster, or something?"

"Yes."

He lifted his head to glare at her, but she paid him no heed as the words in her book finally straightened themselves out. Realizing that his visual daggers were bouncing uselessly off her shield of indifference, he said, "How can you stand sitting there for hours? Waitaminnit. That came out wrong."

"What a surprise," she noted. "And I fail to see how it's any different from you melding with the couch as you play video games, albeit healthier."

"You know, you're always mocking my games, but some of 'em have really intense stories and make you figure out puzzles and stuff."

"I'm not playing them, Garfield."

"Oh, come on! Can you at least admit that they're not as bad as you constantly make'em out to be?" he pleaded, still hanging upside down off the couch.

"No."

There was a light pressure on her lap, and she peered over her nook at the fluffy kitten on her thighs, the large, shining green eyes imploring her to give in.

"Pwetty, pwetty pwease, Waven?"

"It's Raven," she answered, returning to her book as a telekinetic push toppled the animal from her lap. "And no."

Seeming to signal the end of the argument, the alarm activated and Beast Boy shifted into his human form as the room was drenched in crimson light, darting to the keyboard that emerged below the massive screen. A map of the city filled the television screen before focusing on a pulsating dot as Robin and Starfire entered, the former adjusting his domino mask. Beast Boy smirked and chuckled as his fingers danced across the keyboard, and the team's leader was thankful for the red light that hid his blush. Cyborg emerged from the elevator as Raven closed her book and dropped it into a portal that returned it to her room.

"What's up?" Robin asked as he stood at the green youth's shoulder.

"I'm sure that Starfire could name one or two things. Well, mostly one," snickered the changeling who then automatically ducked his head, evading the grey hand. "Behaving, behaving. Anyway, it looks like we have some sort of meta activity going on. No real description of it though."

"Well, let's go find out. I've been itchin' to test out some new upgrades," Cyborg smiled as he patted his arm affectionately.

"See?" Beast Boy hissed to Raven with a smirk. "I'm not the only one who thinks it's gotten boring."

* * *

**Downtown Jump City. 1413 Hours. 20 JULY 2014**

"_Be a simplllllllle kind of man . . . Oh, be somethin' you can love and understanddddd . . ."_

Accompanying the off-key caterwauling was the crackle of flames and the screams of the citizens as they fled the spray of fire. At their origin was an imposing figure in drab green power armor, the blaze dancing in the black lenses of his mask. The remainder of his mask was featureless and his armor was scarred and battered from past expeditions. Arrayed along his gauntlets were nozzles that belched forth the roiling flame and cables extended from his elbows, feeding into the humped back of his suit. Police sirens shrieked through the air and the man grunted as he glanced over his shoulder at the rapidly approaching cars.

"_All that I want for you, my son . . . Is to be satisfiiiieddddd!_" he sang as he turned away from them, discs opening on his suit's back to unleash a barrage of rockets. They swooped towards the cruisers, crashing into them and sending them flipping through the air as the attacker continued belting lyrics, clenching his fists. His heartfelt rendition did not save the song from his utter butchery of its tune and rhythm.

"_Won't you do this for me, son . . . If you caaaaaannnnnnn_-uhff!"

He was interrupted by a sudden blow to the back of his head, and he stumbled forward before recovering quickly. With a growl, he turned to find himself facing a quintet of gaudily adorned youths, and the green boy arched his brows at the armored figure.

"Dude, you need to decide if you're attacking the city with fire or singing. Those schticks just don't mesh."

"Why the hell aren't y'all kids in school? Ah tell yah, teenage delinquency these days. It's a damn shame," he grumbled in annoyance, shaking his head in disappointment. "Guess I'll jus' have to school y'all myself."

"You're welcome to try," Robin said as he drew his staff before levering it at the armored man. "Titans, go!"

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**Welcome one and all to our new story! The villains and many of the side characters featured in this story are our own beloved creations and while they shall certainly be featured prominently (we have to establish and develop them whereas we simply have to develop the Titans), we shall try to keep it evenly balanced.**

**And the BBRae relationship is coming. We're building up to it.**

**Anyway, please let us know what you think! Thanks for reading.**


	2. Slow Burn

**We do not own the rights to the Teen Titans or any affiliated characters.**

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**Downtown Jump City. 1414 Hours. 20 JULY 2014**

While Starfire, Beast Boy, and Robin battled the villain, Cyborg and Raven pulled police officers from the wrecked cars and handled the blazes that the unknown attacker's missiles had started. The tall Titan sprayed the flames with a dousing foam as Raven enclosed them in telekinetic bubbles to starve them of oxygen. Approaching one of the flipped vehicles, Cyborg scanned it, noting the positioning of the cops trapped inside before tearing off the door. A small laser cut the seat belt and Cyborg easily caught the uniformed woman, pulling her from the wreckage as he checked the abrasions she had sustained. Scratches from the shards of the window dotted her features, but her injuries were minor and he set her gently to the side before going for her partner who was in a similar condition.

Raven scoured the vehicles with her soul self, feeling for those in greatest danger before rushing to their aid. She pulled people from the mangled cars with portals or careful dismantlement of the entrapment. As another officer appeared before her from a black portal, she noted the bright red gash along his arm and immediately opened one of the links on her belt, pulling a tourniquet from it. Wrapping it about the injured limb, she sapped his pain away with her touch, and his rigid body relaxed slightly. Hurriedly finishing, she passed him to several of his comrades who were in better condition and continued her search while Beast Boy, in the form of an ox, charged their foe.

"Y'know, this is puttin' me in the mood for some good ol' barbecue," sneered the armored man as fire streamed from his forearms towards the green bovine. Slipping into the form of a cheetah, Beast Boy ducked beneath the blast and closed the distance between him and the armored man before changing again.

"Names and threats first, _then _we do the banter. Are you new at this or something?" scoffed the kangaroo as he leaned back on his tail and his powerful legs launched the man into the air. He flailed before Starfire smashed into him, driving him back into the ground with enough force to crack the road. With a snarl, he seized her throat and switched positions, straddling her as he lifted his other arm.

"If that's how we do it, fine. Ah'm Arson. And ah'm going to turn y'all brats to ash," he growled. Just as flames were about to leap from the barrel, a cable looped about his forearm and yanked it back, unleashing the fire upon his helmet. With a scream, he bounded to his feet and Starfire shot away, rising out of the man's range. The accelerant burned until he raised his hands to his head and foam doused his helm. He wiped the spray from his eyes and the rest began to slide off as he turned his glare upon Robin who had drawn his staff.

"Boy, ah am goin' to make yah regret that," he growled.

"Bring it," Robin smirked confidently as he leapt forward. The ground before him suddenly erupted in flames and he threw his body forward, slamming his staff into the street and pushing over the grasping fire. He landed with a frown as the Arson chuckled darkly and held his arms out at his side.

"How was that, traffic light? Y'all ready for s'more?" he said, his gaze focused on Robin's weapon.

"Yeah! They'd go great with this weenie roast!" the green rhino shouted as he thundered forward.

Arson growled lightly and lifted his arms to spray streams of fire about them in a circle, creating walls of flame to deter the shape shifter. Robin's grip tightened on his staff before he shouted and dropped it, his hands burning. The glowing rod clattered against the ground before it became wreathed in flames.

"The last thing yer ever gonna smell is gonna be yer own flesh burnin'," Arson growled as he lifted his arms. Suddenly, a shadow fell across him and he turned just as the pterodactyl's talons latched into his shoulders and hauled him into the air.

"How about we take a dip, hothead? You look like you need to cool off," Beast Boy suggested, flapping towards the bay. Starfire streaked past, diving into the circle of flames to collect Robin before he could produce any gadgets to battle the flames.

"Do I get a kiss from my dear damsel after that rescue?" she teased.

"I could've gotten myself out," he protested.

Setting him upon the ground, she kissed him affectionately atop the head and smiled, "Of course you could have, dearest boyfriend. I just enjoy rescuing you."

High above them, Arson grumbled to himself as he grasped the pterodactyl's legs for security and scanned the increasingly distant ground. Lifting his gaze upward to his captor, he uttered a single word laced with venom.

"_Burn_."

Fire suddenly burst upon Beast Boy's form and he shrieked, accidentally dropping the armored man who tumbled through the air, crashing through a roof and into a cluttered room. Glancing about the apartment, he nodded to the terrified woman and her children, touching a finger apologetically to his brow.

"Ma'am. Kids."

Turning, he charged through a wall, smashing a hole through it and leaping across the street to the next building and digging his armored digits into the brick, riding downward. He leapt again, catching a street lamp that crumpled under his weight and dropped him crashing to the ground. Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his head, staggering to his feet and muttering under his breath.

"Damn shoddy construction. Ah tell yah, folks' work ethic these days. It's downright disgraceful."

"What did you do to my friends?"

He dropped his hand and turned at the gravelly growl to see the blue-cloaked Raven towering over him, darkness spreading from around her. Chuckling, he fully faced her and shrugged, "Probably the same thing ah'm gonna do to yah."

A shriek cut through the air with sufficient force to blast Arson off his feet and into a fire hydrant, tearing it from the ground. The spray erupted upward, dousing the villain who groaned as he sat up again, glaring through his mask at the smirking Cyborg, his arm morphed into a cannon and fixed on the armored man.

"I'd like to see you try," said the tall youth.

"Then don't blink, chrome dome," Arson snapped as a plate pushed up from his back. Missiles fired from it, streaking towards the two heroes as Arson surged to his feet. Cyborg dashed out of the way, the ground bursting behind him while Raven merely erected a shield that shuddered under the small explosions.

As the other Titans engaged the armored enemy, Starfire carried the enflamed changeling to the beach and plunged him into the waves to the amusement of the beachgoers who were distant from the violent scene. She then lifted him, sputtering and looking very much like a drenched cat, from the water and he spat out a mouthful of the murky liquid before flatly stating, "Thanks."

"You are very much welcome, friend," she beamed before releasing him. He shifted into an eagle and rose alongside her, heading back over the city, and following the plume of dark smoke. At its source, Robin launched a set of birdarangs while Raven seized nearby debris and launched it at Arson. The former detonated prematurely as they caught flame and Arson swung fiercely at Raven's arsenal, battering most of them away. Robin's kick landed aside his helm and he staggered before managing to catch the next blow and hurling the boy through the air with a hearty laugh. The Boy Wonder was caught by Raven and lowered safely to the ground as Cyborg delivered a thunderous blow to Arson.

"Let's dance, big guy," he said as Arson lashed out.

"Ah tell yah, y'all brats are startin' to git on my last nerve," he growled and booted Cyborg in the chest. He brought up his arms, but faltered when no flames came roaring from the nozzles.

Muttering darkly to himself, he attempted to activate his weaponry again, failing to notice that the cables in his arms had been disconnected by a glowing black aura. Refusing to let the opportunity go to waste, Cyborg closed the distance between himself and the taller figure to deliver a powerful uppercut that sent him reeling. Regaining his footing, he could not evade the triceratops that had approached in the form of a cheetah. The short horn opened a gash in the armor and it sparked as Arson was thrown into the air, arms desperately reaching for anything to hold onto before he slammed back into the earth.

He had the chance to groan before a blast of black energy launched him back into the air where Robin landed upon his chest, slashing at him with razor-edged birdarangs before kicking off of him. Flipping in the air, he snapped out his legs, firing off of Arson while pushing him to the ground. He landed heavily on his back and stirred only to be bombarded by a waves of jade starbolts that buried him in the street.

After a moment of the emerald downpour, Starfire ceased her barrage and lowered to the ground at the cusp of the shallow crater, studying the prone figure to ensure he was not about to stand again. Cyborg stomped forward and reached down, tearing away the cuirass of the armor to reveal the man within. A grey mesh suit covered his body, designed to interface with the armor, and a number of cables extended from ports along it. Mostly healed burn scars covered the top of his head, interrupted by uneven tufts of blonde hair, and springing from his rough chin was a wiry goatee.

"Owowowowowowow," Beast Boy gasped as he shifted back into his humanoid form. He sucked in a breath and squirmed about as he shuddered, "Oooh, that's tender."

"You were set on fire. You're fortunate that it can still feel tender," Raven admonished.

"Right. Sorry. Next time, I'll use my Jedi mind tricks and just tell the fire to go out," he rolled his eyes and then lifted his fingers to the sides of his forehead. "Force extinguish!"

"If you hadn't moved so close to it-"

"I didn't! I swear! I was just going to toss the guy in the ocean and suddenly I was on fire. It wasn't my faul-"

"You two want to save the flirtin' for after we got pretty boy here behind bars and the fires out?" Cyborg suggested as he strode out of the crater, Arson slung over his shoulder.

"We weren't flirting," Raven growled.

"I was," Beast Boy leered at the sorceress who rolled her eyes and pushed him away. He mock gasped in pain before chuckling and shifting into a pterodactyl to rise over the buildings, scouring for any injured or endangered by the fires. He was soon joined by Starfire and Raven while the last two members of the team turned in Arson and his suit to the authorities.

* * *

**Main Room, Titans Tower. 2136 Hours. 20 JULY 2014**

It was several hours before the fires were fully contained, and the Titans returned to their abode weary, but content with the lives they had saved. Cyborg had immediately bid his good-nights and retired to his room to recharge, but Robin had not given in as easily to slumber's sweet song. The challenge of a legitimate super villain had inspired him and he had set to creating a profile with worrisome glee. Before he could begin a training course inspired by their recent battle, Starfire had dragged him off to bed, assuring him that the ideas would be there in the morning, and he had grudgingly accepted her not-so-gentle insistences.

Despite half-lidded eyes, Beast Boy had dropped onto the couch and turned on the immense television, scanning through the programs in a zombie-like manner. Raven had waited to assure that the others were gone before she looked to him and made her demand in a tone that permitted no room for argument.

"Take off your shirt."

He blinked, his eyes bewildered as he stared at her, and was surprisingly silent for a moment before he smirked, "Y'know, Rae, most people go out for dinner or two, maybe a movie, before they start making demands like that."

"Garfield," she scowled.

"I mean, not that I don't mind the eagerness. Far from it. I -"

"Garfield!"

"All right, all right," he nodded before smiling. "Wait, one more. I've got a good one here. Ahem . . . Would you be willing to consider an even trade policy?"

"Behave or I shall send you to another dimension," she cautioned as he finally pulled off his shirt, revealing the mostly healed burn scars from earlier in the day. She sighed as she lifted her hand, noting his instinctive flinch before the cool sensation of her healing flowed into his body. Relaxing his shoulders, he closed his eyes and released a long breath while Raven discreetly studied him for other fresh scars or wounds. At least, that was her excuse should he notice her quiet admiration of the physique that over a decade of heroics had created. The shape shifter may have complained fairly consistently about how physical and tiring his powers were, but the sorceress held no reservations in appreciating the fruits of such labor.

In the years since the Brotherhood's defeat, with the decrease in severe threats, Raven had increased her studies and experimentations with her powers, inadvertently discovering the empathy that had been growing since her father's defeat. Her powers had always had a mental aspect to them, but she found her ability to sense emotions to be innate and often unwarranted. When it had started, it had taken physical touch for her to sense the feelings of others, and she had purposely avoided such contact to evade the headaches that often accompanied the impressions she received. Naturally, this had worried her friends, and as her powers grew, she had been beset by their concern without any requirement for contact.

Given time, she adjusted and her empathy continued to grow to the point, but two inhabitants of the Tower remained largely immune to it. Robin's mental barriers had not been a surprise, particularly considering his mentor, but Beast Boy had given her pause before she recalled the Doom Patrol's rather harsh leader. Though she had no intention of admitting it out loud, she had made several attempts at breaching their partitions, seeking a chink in the stalwart shields. The changeling always seemed to sense her intrusions when she pushed too far, pausing in whatever action he was doing to look about curiously before shaking his head while Robin was vastly more subtle in his suspicions.

Her touch heightened her empathic abilities and she made another attempt at surpassing the walls about Beast Boy's core emotions, curious as to what lay beyond the glib smile and varyingly funny jokes. Prowling the surprisingly stable fortress of his mind, she admitted defeat as the last of the blisters disappeared and dropped her slender fingers. Beast Boy grinned as he opened his eyes, almost level to her own gaze now.

"Thanks, Rae."

"You're welcome. And it's Raven," she responded automatically, the exchange conducted out of tradition rather than any displeasure at the nickname. As he pulled on his suit's top and flopped back into the couch, she proceeded towards the door but paused as she heard the channels changing again. Turning, she chided, "You should rest. You know Robin is going to run us through his new course as soon as it's done."

"I'm training," he assured her as he cycled through the channels.

"Remote usage. An invaluable skill," she said dryly.

"Well, great. Now you just made me actually miss Control Freak," he sighed as he finally stopped on a channel. "And, actually, I was looking for Animal Planet. Now, lessee what sort of critters I can learn about tonight. Well, this morning. Y'know what I mean."

She rolled her eyes before passing through the doorway with a yawn, "Do try to find some sleep. I would rather not have you drooling on my cloak again."

"I'll catch a cat nap," he promised before shouting after her. "And that was a one time thing! I swear!"

* * *

**B Block, Jump City Penitentiary. 2147 Hours. 20 July 2014**

Within Jump City Penitentiary, the otherwise anonymous man known as Arson lounged on a lumpy mattress on the bottom bunk of his cell, a smoldering cigarette between his lips. His hands were crossed behind his head and he had swiped a guard's bill cap to jam over his ugly scars, which remained apparent upon the back of his neck. One leg was bent and the other rested atop his knee, his foot swinging to the rhythm of his whistle. A colorless tattoo decorated his right forearm, flames dancing across his skin and he seemed strangely confident despite his incarceration, breaking into a warbling song.

"_Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry . . . Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye, singin', 'This'll be the day that I -_"

He glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps and quickly tucked the cap under his pillow and the cigarette behind his ear as the guard stopped in front of his cell, a young man with curly hair and an orange jumpsuit between him and his partner. Arson sat up as they unlocked the door, and pushed the anxious youth into the cell. Closing the door, they motioned for him to approach and he stuck his cuffed hands through the small break in the bars for them to unlock them and pocket the handcuffs. The boy rubbed his wrists and scowled at the guards as one of them warned, "You two play nice. And have a good night."

"Oh, no doubt there, sah," Arson called, over pronouncing the tile as the pair vanished. He waited a moment longer before whipping out the cap and pulling it upon his head again, slipping the cigarette back into his mouth. The boy paced the cramped room, cracking his knuckles anxiously and his cellmate scoffed.

"Kid, y'all need to set yerself down. Y'all ain't gonna git outta here by pacin' holes in the floor," he advised before blowing out a plume of smoke. "Ah got an extra if yah wanna calm your nerves."

"I don't smoke," he answered distractedly.

Arson nodded as he took a long drag, "Smart choice."

The boy halted for a second, forcing himself to stop and muse, "How'd you manage to smuggle them in, anyway? They got everything when they searched me."

"Didn't smuggle 'em," he said. "Ah liberated 'em from a guard who made some unkind remarks about my handsome mug."

"What about your m-Holy shit! Dude! What the Hell happened to you?" the youth's eye bulged as he finally noted the mess of scars revealed as Arson doffed his cap before pulling it firmly back down into place.

"Few years back, ah found out ah ain't nearly as fireproof as ah oughtta be," he shrugged as he took a final draw from his cigarette and stared forlornly at the stub. Rolling it between his fingers, he flicked it expertly into the silvery toilet before reaching into his rolled up sleeve for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. He plucked one nestled beside its brethren, but didn't light it right away, content for the moment to simply twirl it between his fingers. The boy had fully ceased his restless walk and was studying the man before him with renewed interest.

"Nice ink," he nodded towards the flames leaping along his forearm.

Glancing at them, he grimaced, "Yeah, ah din't totally think 'em through. Ah got 'em to advertise, but now they're a bit much."

"Heh. You ever think about getting them removed?"

"Ah did once. Decided it wasn't worth the cost to git rid of it."

The boy nodded, popping his knuckles again before extending a hand, "I forgot to introduce myself. Rubio Hernandez."

Flicking the cigarette behind his ear, the bald man accepted the hand and gave it a vigorous pump. "Howdy, Rubio. Name's - well, yah can call me Arson."

"And you thought the tattoo was obvious?"

"Heh. Would yah believe ah'm in fer jaywalkin'?"

Rubio laughed as Arson drew the cigarette back from behind his ear and after an instant, he asked, "So . . . Arson. Is that one of those super villain names?"

"Ah prefer the term 'super-criminal.'"

"What's the difference?" Rubio scoffed.

"Personal preference," he answered before nodding as though suddenly remembering something. "Oh, and whether y'all end up a crispy critter or not."

The slight edge to his voice was enough to end the conversation and Rubio nodded and turned from his orange gaze, glancing about the cell. With a sigh, Arson stretched out upon his cot once again, regarding the cigarette thoughtfully as Rubio slapped his palms against his legs and glanced about. His anxiety was apparent, but Arson paid him no heed as he simply studied his cigarette, still pinched between his fingers. A shout rang throughout the block seconds before the lights went out and Rubio stalled for a second before moving to the bunk. There was a thudding sound, and Arson chuckled at the epithets muttered in Spanish as the boy cradled his injured toe before hobbling into the top bunk.

In the darkness, Arson waited for his eyes to adjust until he could see the cigarette clasped between his fingers. A crude smile pulled across his lips and he chuckled to himself as he continued to tumble it cautiously, careful not to let it slip from his grasp and disappear into the deep shadows. A large part of him was far more comfortable with prisons than it should have been, and they were almost like a vacation to him, a break from the demanding tedium of free life. Shelter, food, and a number of other amenities were his without any payment on his part.

Finally catching his cigarette between his fore and middle fingers, he studied it again, his orange gaze unwavering. After a moment, the tip of the cigarette began to smolder, wisps of smoke rising from its end and he placed the unlit side in his mouth, forming another smile as he turned his gaze upward, prepared to settle in.

* * *

**Bit sudden to post a second chapter, but we actually have a lot of this story already written. We wanted to give everybody a taste of the direct villains and the action that would be featured in this story. As always, we hoped that you enjoyed it.**

**We worked on dialect a lot for this story and a large part of writing it (the initial reason, fact) is so that we can figure out the voices and mannerisms of our characters, some of whom have gone through drastic reimagining prompted by this story.**

**Arson is not one of those guys. He pretty much ended up as we initially envisioned him though the singing is new.**

**Anyway, send us your thoughts with a review! We shall treasure them greatly.**


	3. Undertow

**We do not own the rights to the Titans or any associated characters.**

**Any unassociated characters belong to us.**

* * *

**External Training Course, Titans Tower. 0726 Hours, 21 JULY 2014**

Raven tried to squash the little quail of satisfaction and self-righteousness as she watched Beast Boy stagger about, viewing the world through half-lidded eyes that sank increasingly lower. Whenever they would fully close, his head would nod forward before snapping back upright as he drew in a deep breath, shaking his head to appear momentarily awake before the process began anew. After breakfast, during which the changeling had nearly dropping his face into his bowl of cereal several times, the Titans had been summoned outside by their eager leader to take part in his newly designed training course. Robin stood at the control panel, adjusting parameters and making the finishing touches.

"Man, it's way too early for all of this," Cyborg grumbled.

"But, friend, it is such a glorious day!" Starfire returned jubilantly. "The sun is bright, our city is safe, and Robin has crafted a new obstacle course for us to run."

"Star, I bet if you were ever actually cut, you would bleed rainbows and puppy dogs," muttered the shape shifter as his head fell against his mechanical friend's thick arm. "And then they woulddmmmgfrrkghhh . . ."

"Star, we might need you to smack lips with salad head here," smirked the large Titan. "I think he's startin' to develop his own language."

"No, Rita. Don't let her turn me into a toilet bowl with flowers," he mumbled. "I'd make an ugly daffodil."

"Oh, nuh-uh. No way, man. Don't you even dare slobber on my new chrome finish!" he warned sternly as drool began to drip from the green boy's lips.

"All right. Ready to go?" Robin called from the control panel.

"Do we get a choice?" Raven asked.

"Not really," he shrugged as he hopped down from the spire. He took his place at the starting line and said, "I'll go first so that you guys have a chance to see it."

"Pudding," Beast Boy mumbled. Cyborg rolled his eyes and sidestepped, and the changeling crashed to the ground. He quickly righted himself and glared at his friend, who adopted the guise of innocence, until the buzzer sounded and the course began.

Robin dashed forth as streams of fire roared at varying heights across his path, and he weaved through them before pulling a civilian dummy out of the way as another flame spewed from a turret.

"It's a beautiful day here today as Robin, the Boy Wonder, clears the first civilian with a tackle and tuck. This is Cyborg and announcing with me today is the lean, green, morphin' machine, Beast Boy," dictated the technological teen in his best impersonation of a sports announcer voice.

"Thanks, Cy. It is some real beautiful weather this morning - skies are clear, the water's crystal blue - just a great day to watch some obstacle courses. Now, back to the tackle and tuck - a classic, Cy, a true classic, and harder than it looks too. Most folks forget that tuck," continued the weary changeling, brightening slightly as he joined in.

"That they do, BB. Looks as though our competitor has made his way to the next obstacle, and it seems to be quite a doozy," Cyborg announced as Robin dodged across the sand, evading the explosions that sent plumes of the coarse sediment spraying into the air. Leaping back onto a stretch of rock, he picked up a child-sized dummy and secured its arms about his neck as he ducked and leapt through a forest of rotating pillars with thick limbs. A glancing blow caught his ribs and he staggered as the other boys hissed in sympathy.

"Oooh. That's goin' to cost him some time," Cyborg noted. Gritting his teeth, Robin recovered and ducked under the next arm before sliding between a simultaneous pair, protecting his passenger along the way.

"Beautiful return though. You know, most competitors take a hit, and they just get stuck in that rut. But he takes the knocks and just keeps on rolling," admired the shape shifter. Clearing the field of pillars, Robin set his charge upon the ground and threw a pair of batarangs into the wall that rose up before him. Charging forth, he leapt and grabbed them, lifting himself over the top of the barrier.

"We're in the final stretch now. It all comes down to this," whispered the mechanical teen.

"Do you believe in miracles? How about in a thing called love? Because this is where dreams come true, folks. Where boys are separated from the men. Girls from the women. Caterpillars from the butterflies. This, ladies and gentlegerms, this is where legends are born!" Beast Boy cheered as Robin's hand slapped against the red button, halting the timer. The green boy's arms erupted into the air and he yelled, "Goalllllllllll!"

"And the crowd goes wild!" Cyborg joined in and Starfire giggled as Raven rolled her eyes at the pair's antics. Breathing heavily, Robin approached the team and offered a large smile.

"All right. Who's next?"

Training ultimately ended with mixed results after Beast Boy blundered through the obstacles, seized by his drowsiness once again. Aside from a few singed hairs and several bruises, he had emerged unharmed though his civilians had not fared as well. Even in his semi-awake state, he had attempted to understate the claw marks he had left as a leopard in his first rescue with little luck. His second civilian had fared better after he took several hits before shifting into an ankylosaurus and bashing through the forest of rotating pillars. Reluctantly, Robin had called a halt to their training so that repairs could be made and Beast Boy had staggered inside to crash upon the couch.

While Cyborg had turned his attention to the obvious ruin, Starfire had floated at the shoulder of her surly boyfriend as he ran a diagnostic on the system.

"Can you believe this? He wrecked my course," he said to her, his anger apparent.

"I doubt that was friend Beast Boy's intention," she reasoned.

"No, but it's not the first time it's happened. I'm beginning to think that we need to have a curfew for when everybody needs to be in their rooms or something so that he'll actually go to bed."

"Would we not all have to follow the curfew?"

"To keep it fair, yes."

"I do not like it," she declared.

"No?" he glanced up towards her with a frown and was surprised by her lips on his. He flushed as she drew away and smiled softly at him.

"I prefer snuggling with my dearest boyfriend than sleeping alone," she said.

"I, uh, that's-that's...ummm...good point," he concluded. Beaming at him, she rose into the air, soaring towards the sun and reveling in its glow. Robin gazed after her for a moment before a deep chuckle brought him back to reality. He snapped a glare towards Cyborg who was rewriting one of the pillars, catching the mischievous twinkle in his organic eye and he huffed, "Shut up."

"Hey, man, I saw nothin'," he smirked knowingly.

Within the Tower, Raven had retrieved her book from her dim sanctuary before returning to the main room and rolling her eyes at the sight of the shape shifter sprawled out upon the couch. Capturing one of the few cushions he had not claimed in his quest for a slumbering position, she settled back and opened her book. Over the years, the couch had become her customary reading position despite the multitude of distractions that inhabited the room. She was not particularly eager to admit it, but she acknowledged that she had grown to prefer the presence of her friends over her vaunted solitude even if she was not directly interacting with them.

A sudden movement pulled her attention from her tome, and she lifted her gaze, frowning as she found the room empty beside her and Beast Boy. There was another twitch and she finally noted it was the changeling's ears dancing, flattening along his head before flaring outward again. She studied the phenomenon interestedly, watching his ears jump about in response to his dreams. They swiveled, searching for some phantom sound before snapping back as though striking at some irritants along his neck. As she took further note of his sleeping form, she realized that aside from regular movements and adjustments, he made minor shifts in his form.

Scales would ripple along his skin only to be replaced by smooth, mossy green flesh. Hair sprouted into feathers before growing into quills that then thinned back into his wild locks. Fear, obvious even without the boon of her empathy, flashed across his face as talons tipped his fingers and his lips were pulled back to reveal a fang-filled maw. Tentatively, she ran her fingers along one of his ears and recoiled as it flickered, carefully watching him.

Casting a furtive glance about the room, she performed a cursory empathic scan and located her remaining friends. Robin maintained his stoic guard, his swelling affection for the joyous blur flitting about overhead making their way through the cracks of his shield. Amusement colored Cyborg as he conducted repairs, tinged by his focus and dedication to his craft.

Reaching forth again, she gingerly traced Beast Boy's ears, attempting to placate the rampant fear that had seized him. He initially stiffened at her touch, but the continual whisper of her fingers drove the tension from his form and his features returned to as normal as possible for him. Smiling softly as he relaxed, she continued to run her fingers along his ear as she lifted her book with her other hand and picked up where she had left off, turning the pages with small exercises of her power. Without the clamor of the television or other distractions, Raven slipped into a strange sense of serenity, one that usually required her to settle into meditation, and the world began to narrow.

At least an hour had passed before she was startled from her calm by the shriek of the alarm, and she noted that at some point, Beast Boy's head had come to rest upon her thigh. Panicking slightly, she shoved him off her lap and he yelped as he tumbled to the floor. He sat up, rubbing his head as he glanced about in confusion and Raven strode to the console.

"Dude, what happened?"

"The alarm startled you off of the couch," she answered hurriedly. He groaned as he stood up, rubbing his head and approached her, failing to notice the light flush in the shade of her hood.

"You know, I take it back. I'm not bored anymore. Now can we go back to once-a-week alerts?" he pleaded as she rolled her eyes.

* * *

**Schwartz First National Bank, Jump City. 1027 Hours, 21 JULY 2014**

Bank patrons and employees alike cowered upon the floor, quivering and mindfully noting the gashes that had been torn in the marble floors and the sundered desks. Their hands were splayed upon the ground before them and the unwarranted movement of a sharp-dressed man's hands brought a sharp whistling through the air as the floor directly in front of his fingers ripped open. The captives exchanged fearful glances and the occasional whisper of comfort to those with tears streaming down their face as the lash lifted back into the air, hovering watchfully like its comrades. Arching over them and swaying slightly were thin, mechanical tendrils composed of tiny pointed bars that spun individual of each other.

The tendrils traced back to metal ports along a slick, black suit with silvery shards positioned along it to vaguely resemble minimalist armor. Wearing the suit was a lean man whose face was obscured by a heavy, dark-visored mask that reflected the scene before him. Nodes were arranged periodically along his body, and ran in rows along either side of his spine. Scattered upon the floor behind him were the remains of a hooded jacket and sweatpants that had disguised his entry into the bank.

He kept his hostages docile with tendrils looming over their heads, ready to drill downward at the slightest provocation and more than ready to maim any who wised to be an example. As they diligently watched the captives, the man allowed his focus to fall upon the vault, where more of his extensions busied themselves with sawing around the door.

"Remain calm and you shall all return home without any further incident," he promised, his voice hollow and booming through the mask. "I have no desire to hurt you, but I won't regret doing so."

"How 'bout this? Surrender and you can go to jail without gettin' your butt whupped by a bunch of teenagers," Cyborg challenged as he leveled his sonic cannon at the man and strode from the portal Raven had created.

Other obsidian gateways appeared beneath the hostages, whisking them away from their captor who did not bother attacking them. Instead, he waited for the Teen Titans to assembled behind him, giving no more than a casual glance over his shoulder towards them. His whip-thin tendrils realigned themselves, drawing from their other pursuits to rise up over the Teen Titans, likes snakes preparing to strike, as he considered their offer.

"Children," he growled, "Lives are threatened and they send children to brave the danger. Disgusting."

"Says the Slender Man wannabe," Beast Boy observed before he morphed into a _Tyrannosaurus rex_ and roared threateningly.

Tentacles retracted and bound themselves tightly around the villain's limb, forming a close-knit armor tipped with the swaying ends. He threw an arm upward and they lashed about the dinosaur's maw, forcing it shut as he swung out of the way of the Titans' barrage. His line shortened, pulling him atop Beast Boy's head. From his new vantage point, he sent another tendril slicing through the air to rip through the support of the shimmering chandelier. They dove out of the way as it crashed to the floor while Beast Boy reared, attempting to smear his unwanted passenger against the ceiling.

Several of his extra limbs stabbed into the wall and he pulled himself to safety as the changeling smashed into the ceiling. Anchoring himself in place, he cast more tendrils towards the giant beast's ankles, twining them together. More spread along the wall like creeping roots, stabbing through to the other side, and Beast Boy, more dazed by his tactic of dislodging his passenger than he had intended, suddenly found he was without footing. Before he could crash into the floor, he shifted into a falcon and swooped out of the loop that had constrained him.

"Hey, Dr. Hentai! Why dont'cha come down here and play!"

The criminal pushed himself from the wall to evade the blasts from the sonic cannon and starbolts, his installed weaponry catching him before he landed and lowering him gently to the ground as he hissed, "The name's Kraken."

"Wait, is that 'Kray-ken' or 'Krak-en?'" the verdant oxen asked as he rammed into the villain, knocking him from his feet. Tumbling expertly back into, he caught Robin's staff on his forearm, the layer of tendrils absorbing the savage blow while also capturing his arm. With a grunt, Kraken spun and threw the leader at the approaching Beast Boy, causing him to stumble. As he did so, more extensions snapped out to capture the desk propelled towards him by a black force. They constricted about it, grinding it into splinters as Raven collected a new arsenal to launch at him. Kraken was suddenly thrown from his feet and into the adjacent wall by a starbolt and before he could recover, a sonic blast drove him into the tellers' counter.

Cyborg maintained the blast for a moment before stopping, waiting for the dust to settle as the team remained poised, ready for the tentacles that suddenly shot from the dust and debris. They dodged aside and the tendrils altered their course, diving into the walls and floor before Kraken rose over them. He loomed upon his tentacles, towering over the youths and regarding them with palpable distaste.

"Can't you see it? You're being used to fight somebody else's war. Get out while you're still alive," he instructed. "Get out before they throw you at somebody, something, that you can't beat."

"Dude, we've saved the world. At least twice," Beast Boy pointed out. "I mean, if you wanna get technical about it, we mighta caused one of them too, but I think that still counts."

"We can handle ourselves," Raven added as she sent a desk at Kraken. He staggered backwards at the impact but was quickly pulled forwards again as Cyborg, Starfire, and an elephantine Beast Boy each seized a tendril and yanked. Birdarangs struck his other extensions, encasing them in ice. With a slight growl, Kraken curled himself into a protective ball as he crashed to the floor, tendrils slithering from grasps as they went slack. Flexing the frozen limbs, he shattered their frosty shackles and rose up to send them stabbing at the heroes.

Valiant efforts were made to evade their grasp, Robin managing to last the longest. Beast Boy had been captured in the middle of a shift, unable to escape the dark casket that molded to what form he tried to slide into. When Cyborg had moved to help him, he had missed the reaching limb that snaked around his ankle and, once reinforced, hauled him into the air. They slithered around the shield that Raven created, catching and binding her before she could form it into a bubble. Starfire shot towards the ceiling, attempting to escape the dogged pursuers that had quickly moved to surround her. Finally, Robin had succeeded in dodging them with acrobatic flair and quick strikes, never lingering after a blow as he made his way to their source. However, there were too many of them and as they began lashing about his arms and legs, he was pulled into the forest of slithering limbs alongside his comrades.

"Do you have any idea how easy it would be, right here, right now, to kill you? It's a damn miracle that somebody else hasn't done so," Kraken seethed.

"Oh, goodie. Monologue time. My favormmphhh! Mmh!"

Beast Boy, his mouth covered by more tendrils, glared at their captor who snarled, "Shut up and listen up. I'm trying to save your lives. You -"

He was silenced by the chandelier suddenly crashing into him and propelling him into the wall. His grips loosened and the Titans slipped free as Raven's eyes glowed and she said, "Normally, I'm a fan of anybody that can shut Beast Boy up. But his babble is actually preferable to your own."

"Aww, Rae," the changeling swooned, upside down upon the floor. "You _do_ care."

"Enough."

The tendrils rattled as they lifted from the floor, the tapered cells forming them beginning to spin faster. They seized about the former light source and shredded through it, tearing it apart and scattering the pieces as Kraken stormed from the maelstrom, his serpentine limbs massing behind him like a wave. His hands were balled into fists and the tentacles lashed at the marble floor, tearing into it, with a hungry rage and ill intent. The Titans readied their weapons, or became them as Beast Boy shifted into the shape of sleek raptor, and, for a moment, neither side moved.

"That's enough of that. You want to endanger yourselves, get killed? I can oblige you," Kraken offered and suddenly the tendrils were pulling the blocks they had surreptitiously carved from the floor, swinging them at the heroes. Cyborg managed to blast one aside, only to be pulled from his feet and slammed into a wall where one of the crude flails shoved him deeper into the crater. Prepared for the onslaught this time, Raven created a protective bubble about her that the tendrils and their weapons bashed at, each blow causing it to shudder but she did not break concentration. A birdarang spun through the air to cut one tendril before it could smash into Starfire as Robin bounded atop another.

He raced through the technological tangle, soon finding he was accompanied by a green spider monkey, but Kraken responded to their attempts at advance with the whirring tendrils. Beast Boy shrieked as he clasped a tendril only to feel the flesh stripped away while Robin barely dodged another of the armament that merely opened a line of bright red along his cheek instead of tearing it off. Another stabbed towards him and he was forced to flip out of the way, landing back upon the bank floor a safe distance away from the concentration of the tendrils. There was a weight upon his shoulder and he found a strangely grim-faced lemur perched upon it, long narrow, middle fingers curling about his arm to secure him.

"What's the plan, o' most fearless of leaders?" he asked.

"I'm working on it," he grumbled as he scanned the ravaged interior of the bank. Starfire kept Cyborg covered as he emerged from the wall, leaning against it for support, and Raven was bombarded by the remainder of the clubs, her sphere beginning to crack and sweat beading upon her face as she fought to keep it intact. The thinner tendrils tested the cobweb fissures, prodding them in search of an entry, and an idea sprang to the masked youth's mind.

"I need an ankylosaurus. Get as close to him as you can," he instructed and Beast Boy saluted.

"Aye-aye, _mon capitaine_!" he saluted before jumping to the floor. As he charged forth, his form swelled and scales and plates replaced fur until an ankylosaurus was thundering towards Kraken. His natural armor managed to hold off the whip-like limbs that flickered at him, and he lowered his broad head, refusing their attempts at halting him. Even as they bound about his ankle, he struggled forward and was feet away from Kraken when Robin hurtled out from under the ankylosaurus's belly, sliding to a stop at the masked man's feet. There was a moment of surprise before the Boy Wonder threw the readied batarang that exploded against the mirrored helm.

Kraken roared, making to clutch at his ears as Robin rose and brought the telescoping escrima sticks down across the villain's face. Before he could recover, the youth delivered a flurry of blows, striking at any points not obscured by armor or tendril and Kraken attempted to retract his limbs, pull them back to form some defense. Finally, the rain of blows relented and he dared to lift his head in time to witness the club tail of the ankylosaurus arcing towards him. He was thrown bodily across the room, tendrils screaming after him as they lost whatever holds they had been maintaing. Skidding several feet, he came to rest amongst a pile of rubble and he struggled to his feet as the Teen Titans converged.

He regarded them wearily, the broken lens revealing a gaze of jade, and his tendrils stirred before springing back to life. The heroes tensed only for them to form a cocoon about him, coiling protectively around him. They twisted and flowed together as their whirring sound was accompanied by a fierce grinding cacophony. Before the Titans could attack, the second sound stopped and the cocoon began shrinking, disappearing down a hole tunneled through the floor. Circling about it, they gazed through the shredded wiring and pipes to the basement floor where another crevasse had been drilled.

The heroes descended, Raven delivering her flightless teammates to the bottom tunnel while the others drifted into the sewer main under their own power. The surprisingly thick pipe was devoid of Kraken's presence, and Beast Boy winced as he changed from a gliding squirrel to his human form and pinched his nostrils together. He grumbled, "I don't think I'm gonna be tracking him by smell."

"Do a quick search," Robin instructed the team. "Stick together. I don't want him sneaking up on any of us. I'm going to look over the scene."

Starfire paired with Raven and Beast Boy, trying to remember a form without a nose, bounded after Cyborg to scour the dank tunnels, struggling against the oppressive odor.

* * *

**Titans Tower. 1448 Hours, 21 JULY 2014**

"Now, I know that math and that book stuff in general isn't exactly my strong suit, but there are five people in this Tower . . . and we have _one_ bathroom with a shower. _Why_ did we think this was a good design?" Beast Boy groaned from beneath the gas mask he had procured from his room. After a fruitless search through the labyrinth running beneath the city, Robin had decided, to the fervent agreement of his teammates, to find their new foe through different means. As he did so, the remainder of the Teen Titans waited outside the door for Starfire to finish her shower.

"Do I look like any sort of architect to you? We're lucky this thing even has runnin' water," Cyborg complained back to the shorter boy sitting against the wall. "Besides, I didn't see you contributin' anything when we were workin' up the blueprints."

"Are you kidding? Remind me again who was the dude who came up with the pool? And the movie-slash-video game library?" he returned.

"Such crucial additions to the Tower," Raven grumbled with a roll of her amethyst eyes. Her voice was muffled and her sharp gaze was her only apparent feature with her cloak drawn over her mouth and nose to ward off the stench.

"You bet your sweet -"

"Garfield," she growled, her eyes easily converting her ire.

"Are you my mummy?" he suddenly asked in a faux British accent, looking up to her through the wide-eyed mask. She was saved from answering as Starfire finally emerged from the restroom, running a fluffy towel through her hair as the steam coiled about her. Noting the short line that had formed, she winced and apologized profusely.

"Forgive me, friends. I did not intend to take that long."

"It's fine," Raven assured her as she telekinetically seized the ocelot that tried to streak through the opened doorway and levitated him into the air. Cyborg chuckled as the sorceress strode into the room, shut the door behind her, and dropped the unmasked shape shifter to the ground.

Wrapping her hair in her towel, Starfire made her way to the main room where Robin worked furiously upon one of the consoles, too focused to notice the pungent stench that lingered over him. After returning to the crime scene, he had found several deposits of heavy, metallic dust. He had noted their placement and offered some to the police before taking a sample of his own to run through the Towers' diagnostics equipment. His fingers danced upon the keyboard with all the dexterity of an expert pianist, and he did not seem to notice the golden girl's entry as she drifted towards the couch. Upon his screen was a metallic sphere with tiny tendrils sprouting along its surface. Hovering at his shoulder, Starfire tilted her head at the subject as Robin analyzed it, scanning through the large block of text that accompanied it.

"What discovery has been found?" she finally asked.

"As far as I can tell, it's a nanocell. Rapid-replication, easily formed by applying different currents. I think it's what Kraken's tendrils were made of," he answered, demonstrating no surprise at her presence. He remained focused upon the screen, studying the information the machines had found. "If I can figure out how he structures them, how he controls them, we'll have a serious advantage in our next encounter."

"You believe he will strike again?"

"He didn't get any of the money he was after, but I'm also trying to track him down. There was some mud in his boot that was left behind, and we're analyzing that, trying to see if there's any identifying characteristics in it."

"You shared this information with the authorities, yes?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yes, I shared with the police."

"Thank you," she said with a kiss to his cheek. As she pulled back, he turned and captured her lips, looping his arms about her waist and pulling her close. She responded eagerly, grasping his strong shoulders, and he could feel the fire beneath her skin as she deepened the kiss. After a moment, they broke apart and Starfire's eyes sparkled as they met Robin's masked gaze and she noted coyly, "Do you not have evidence to examine, dearest boyfriend?"

He shrugged, "It's busy running through the equipment. I should probably just let the machines do their job."

"You should _definitely_ permit the machines to do their job," she affirmed as her fingers reached for his mask, and, when he did not pull back, peeled it away to reveal the sky blue eyes beneath. They held a softness purposely hidden by the mask, and he gave a warm smile before leaning in to kiss her again. They made their way to the semi-circular couch, and Starfire gave a soft yelp and a giggle as they tumbled onto it. Gentle kisses passed between them and they soon settled into snuggling with each other, merely content to be in such proximity with each other.

Still loitering beside the bathroom, Cyborg and Beast Boy had produced a deck of cards and were engaged in a fierce game, focus dedicated wholly to the competition. They studied each other with pointed gazes, searching for some chink in the others' armor, some weakness to exploit. Beast Boy kept his features schooled, using every acting skill within his repertoire to lure his friend into his trap. He flashed a smile behind his hand as the teen machine fell for his meticulously laid plans and, with great satisfaction and pomp, he delivered his announcement.

"Go fish."

"Man, you have got to be cheatin' or something. You got these cards scented?" he grumbled as he picked a card from the pile and grimaced.

"Please," he scoffed. "It's all skill, dude."

"Well, I guess by the law of averages, you have to be good at something," he ribbed.

Before Beast Boy could offer a retort, his ears twitched and he glanced back towards Cyborg, performing a swift gesture that inspired him to spring into action. As Raven emerged from the shower, in fresh uniform and free of the sewer's stink, she noted the decrepit pair huddling beside the door, supported by canes with silver beards brushing against the ground. Cobwebs had been spun about them and they lurched forward, their backs bowed by age. They turned, shaking and bleary-eyed to regard her and she scowled.

"I wasn't in there that long," she snapped.

"Eh, what's that, lil' lady?" Beast Boy asked, his voice feeble as he cupped a hand about his ear.

"I think she said 'eyes keep gettin' it wrong,'" Cyborg supplied

"'Cats has my favorite songs?'"

"'Fat folk shouldn't wear thongs?'"

Raven folded her arms over her bosom, watching the exchange continue for several minutes before they began to struggle with original ideas and she asked, "Are you two done yet?"

They glanced to each other and stood straight, taking off the beards and dusting off the cobwebs as they nodded.

"Yeah, I think that pretty much covers it. We might revisit this skit again later though," Beast Boy mused.

"I think there's a good chance of that. This worked out well. But, I'll keep a hold on the beards," Cyborg volunteers, tucking them into a compartment in his chest. "We don't want a repeat of the rubber chicken incident."

"Dude, that was totally not my fault," protested the changeling.

"Before the paint peels any further off the walls, would you two hurry up and take your showers?" said the sorceress, setting a hand on her broad hip.

"I was winning at cards, I'm first!"

Beast Boy disappeared into the still steamy bathroom, and a moment later, the sound of the shower emerged from beyond the door. Cyborg grumbled and leaned back against the wall, "You know, I hate to admit it, but the salad head does have a point. Why did nobody think to put in more showers?"

"Can you even use one?"

"I'm waterproofed. I just use some specialized things that I store in the closet - 'cause Star keeps using 'em if I don't hide 'em," he answered.

Raven stared at him for a moment as an elephant's trumpet sounded from within the bathroom, and she sighed, "We have very strange friends."

"Would you change that?" he asked with a smile.

"Not for a second," she said without hesitation. His grin broadened as she left for her room, leaving Cyborg to access the Tower's systems, specifically the shower's temperature control. There was a lull in the spray, but it returned a second later, accompanied by a shape shifter's shriek that turned into a victorious guffaw.

"Bring on the cold, tin man. Penguin!"

* * *

**A new villain! Kraken changed a little in our writing of him. He was totally mercenary, operating solely for money or other wealth. Here, he has a few other motivations. Anyway, hope that you enjoyed his fight and the rest of the story. Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	4. On Dark Tides

**We do not own the rights to the Titans or associated characters.**

**We do own any unassociated characters.**

* * *

**Titans Tower. 0805 Hours. 22 JULY 2014**

After a night to rest and recover, the Teen Titans entered the main room to find Starfire and Robin already occupying it. The latter stood before the large television screen, which displayed a stony harbor, large ships floating upon dark waters despite the morning's light. Starfire was in the kitchen, humming happily as she prepared a breakfast for her comrades. Grabbing a sticky bun from the fridge, Beast Boy skirted about the bubbling pot that he was fairly certain growled at his passage and leapt onto the couch. He bit into the pastry with great zeal as he studied the screen before a smirk bloomed upon his face.

"You spend last night with Star?"

"What? No," Robin denied quickly, turning back towards the screen. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because your mask is crooked," he answered. "Oh, and the hickie."

"And the embarrassment that would be obvious to the blind," Raven added, joining Beast Boy on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands.

"And Star was just gushin' about how sweet and wonderful you were last night," Cyborg finished, dropping on the other side of the changeling.

The ebony-haired boy hurriedly corrected his mask and tried to pull up his collar as he grumbled, "Try to focus, team. Remember that there's still a criminal out there that we need to catch."

"Careful, dude. Talk like that is what triggered your intervention," warned the changeling as he bit into the cinnamon bun. He chewed it before conceding, "Well, that and the Red X thing and that time we thought you were hallucinating Slade, which, y'know, technically, you -"

A band of dark energy covered his mouth, silencing him and his ears drooped as he turned to glare at Raven who sipped her tea and instructed, "Don't talk with your mouth full."

"ANYWAY," Robin barked, causing all of them to jump as he glowered at them before pointing to the screen. "The mass spectrometer completed the analysis of the mud from Kraken's boots. There were certain identifiers that allowed us to narrow the source down to this harbor."

"Which yacht has all the chicks in bikinis?" Beast Boy asked, his mouth free from its muzzle. "I should probably search that one. Because, you know, ch-"

"Chicks dig the ears," interjected the grey girl at his side, her tone sour. "We know."

"See? Exhibit A," he declared happily. She rolled her eyes and merely took another draught of her tea, not bothering with a response as Robin frowned.

"This is a shipping yard. They're all freight ships, so good luck finding anybody in a bikini."

He turned to the keyboard and executed a few precise keystrokes and the image focused upon a rusted cargo ship that was in poor repair. Red paint, once a bright crimson, along its sides had been stripped away by the weather and wear, and not a window remained that did not bear some crack or jagged gap. Droppings from seagulls and other passing avians splattered the deck, and the craft looked ready to sink into the dark waters.

"This is _La Concorde. _It'sowned by Edwards Freight, a British shipping company that's been facing a rough patch for a while now. Their fleet's dwindling, and they've been forced to moor this ship for the past year, with only a monthly crew checking it to make sure it doesn't sink. I think it's where Kraken is hiding," Robin announced.

"Why?" Raven asked.

With a few keystrokes, the scene was replaced with shifting hues displaying the heat signatures of the area, including a humanoid shape that moved through the abandoned halls. As they watched, the figure stepped into a small room, fiddled with something for a moment, and sat down. Beast Boy stifled a chuckle and sang, "_I always feel like . . . Somebody's watching meeeeeeee!_"

"I tapped into a satellite feed," Robin said quickly as he switched the view to the regular cameras. "The remaining ships in the area have accounted for their crews, but I haven't been able to get through to the head of Edwards Freight."

"We're goin' after him, right?" Cyborg asked, folding his arms over his broad chest.

"Not before the breaking of our nightly fast!" Starfire interjected, carrying the pot that had, ostensibly, been cooking upon the stove.

"Already ate!"

"I'm fine."

"Better go get the T-Car started."

As the other Titans rapidly vacated the premises, Starfire's gaze fell upon her boyfriend who fought valiantly against the pout she leveled at him. A voice inside his wistfully wished that he had spent more time mastering the art of suddenly disappearing. Realizing he was upon the brink of succumbing, he turned towards the computer and closed out the connection to the satellite. His tone was rushed as he reasoned, "We really don't know anything about this Kraken guy. I mean, he could be getting ready to skip town, and we should stop him before he has the chance to get away."

He turned to suddenly find her hovering before him, and he nearly jumped as she leaned in to conspiratorially whisper, "Robin, I am beginning to suspect that our friends do not like my cooking."

"What?" he laughed, thankful for the mask that let him avoid her gaze. "Star, that's crazy. You're an amazing cook."

His eyes slipped to the pot still in her hands and was surprised to see that it looked semi-edible. It was a lumpy, flesh-colored paste that, if he squinted, distantly resembled pudding. A spoon was stuck in it and despite the canted pot, and it remained unmoving, rising from the supposed meal like some valiant flag posted on a harsh, alien environment. For a second, he thought he saw something move within the mixture, and he worked to convince himself that it was merely it shifting due to gravity.

Marshaling every skill that he had learned from Batman, all the preachings about stoicism and playing a role, he reached out and grabbed the spoon. With Arthurian effort, he pulled it from the sludge and, without gazing at it, shoved the glob into his mouth. He let it sit for a moment to complete the illusion before gulping it down and smiling at his bright-eyed girlfriend.

"It's delicious, Star. Now how about we go kick some butt?"

"Most eagerly, dearest boyfriend!" she answered enthusiastically. She flew to deposit her breakfast upon the counter before zooming back towards the door, catching Robin's arm and dragging him with her.

* * *

**Undisclosed Location. XXXX Hours, XX XXXX 20XX**

The rifle was heavy in his hands, and a small shake of his head removed the mix of dirt and sweat from his brow before it could drop into his eyes. It was a useless gesture within the thick darkness that was stirred into disorienting chaos by the dancing fires in the distance. He had lost his googles in the initial contact with the enemy and though he had had escaped without injury, he had been split from his brothers-in-arms. Occasionally, their shouts would pierce through his darkness, but when he turned, it was suddenly coming from behind him again. Gunfire ripped through the shifting shadows, and there were horrid screams, followed by sharp exclamations in a guttural language he could not identify.

Finally, after he was overwhelmed by the fear of dying alone and lost in the dark, he charged to the fires. His own panted breaths and gasps sounded in his ears as he crashed through the trees and dense underbrush, finger hovering outside of the rifle's trigger well. The growing volume of the shouts and gunfire spurred him to speeds he had struggled to attain all his life.

A stout branch caught him in the chest, but his legs kept going, pedaling in the air for a moment before he crashed roughly to the ground and the breath rushed out of his lungs. For a moment, he made no movements, simply attempted to regain the breath his vest seemed intent from keeping from him. Struggling to sit up, he realized that his weapon had been knocked from his grasp and he scrabbled in the darkness for it, his panic rising until there was the all-too close shriek of gunfire and he was showered in splinters from an injured tree.

Abandoning his firearm, he pressed to the earth and crawled forward as the fires finally began to grow closer and bullets continued to arch over his head. There was an agonized shriek, and he suddenly found himself unpinned, no longer hounded by gunfire. Bounding to his feet, he charged towards the fire, leaping out from the eternally dark brush into the warm glow - and found himself staring down the muzzle of a rifle. He didn't see the face behind it, didn't see the near skeletal limbs and underdeveloped body, as his training took over. For a second, the world blurred and by the time it righted itself, the weapon was in his hands and its previous owner was on the ground.

The boy, the child, was young, definitely no older than his nephew and certainly in inferior shape. Clothes smeared with dirt and blood pooled about the child's gaunt frame and the his feet were left bare, covered in scratches from his journeys. Surprise was immortalized in the now glassy eyes and some cruel light made it seem as though they lifted towards the hole ripped through the child's forehead and out the back of his skull. A crimson puddle was gathering beneath the child's head and the soldier began to tremble as he found his own reflection in it.

Sound faded away as the rifle tumbled from his hands and he stumbled backward before dropping to the ground. His throat burned and he threw his head to the side to vomit his previous meal onto the forest floor. Tears gathered in his eyes and his stomach retched, but was too empty to supply the next wave of nausea. Strands of the foul matter clung to his chin, dripping onto the armored vest and he stared at the child, unable to cease the tremors that had consumed his body. Finally, he managed to tear his gaze away from the horror, and instantly wished that he had not.

Three more children lay spread about the fire, another had fallen into the blaze and he was stricken by another surge of horrified disgust at the scent of burning flesh. Their throats had been torn open with terrible savagery and one had been gutted, entrails spilling from his sunken stomach. Crouching by one of them was the terrible frame of a man in armor, wiping the red humor from his long, serrated knife and glanced up curiously at his fallen comrade. Doused in shadow by the fire, the tall man had offered a broad grin that gleamed ominously as a soul-chilling chuckle spilled from the pristine teeth.

"Thanks for the hand, kiddo. We might make a killer outta ya yet."

The words and image of the dead child lingered even as the dream ended, and jaded eyes snapped open, gazing at the thin tendrils that wavered before his face, the most obvious sign of his agitation. With a simple thought, he retracted them back into the pockets imbedded under his skin and he sat up. Grinding a weathered palm into his eyes, he threw toned legs over the edge of the cot and blinked at the cramped room. Pulling on a pair of cargo pants, he rose and picked up the black sleeveless shirt thrown onto the back of the rickety chair and tugged it on. Old scars twisted along his body, most faded, but there was a striated mass on his bicep where it looked as though the flesh had been stripped away. Periodically arranged along his limbs and body were small, metal ports emerging from his skin, crooked black lines erupting from them.

Within what had once been the captain's bunk, he settled into the old chair next to an equally miserable table that he had scavenged from elsewhere in the ship. Upon it was Kraken's slick suit and helm, the broken lens replaced and scratches devoutly buffed out. A sleeping bag was rolled out on the suspended cot and a duffel bag was set at the head to serve as a pillow. Bags of beef jerky, lollipops, and other non-perishables were piled beneath his bed, and a tendril snaked from one of the ports to an open bag, retrieving a tootsie pop. It was joined by another and the wrapper was deftly removed and discarded in a grocery bag that was partially filled with trash. The tendril coiled about the candy's stalk, deposited the bulb in the man's open mouth, and the treat cracked as his teeth clamped down upon it.

He sucked on the lollipop, rotating the stick that jutted out from his mouth as he tested the new lens he had installed. Content with its security, he placed it back upon his suit and paced the span of the room, knowing sleep would not be returning to him anytime soon. The old ghosts had been stirred from their shallow resting places and they would not give him peace for at least a week. Experience told him that, in time, his body would succumb to sleep, but it would be short, fitful, and leave him feeling more tired then before it. Alcohol and other self-prescribed medications offered no solace and the terrors of his dreams seemed to increase tenfold, punishment for the attempt at escape.

Dropping to the floor, he began a series of rapid push-ups, descending until his upper arms were parallel with the floor before he rose again. The redundant exercise quieted the ghosts clinging to him as his focus shifted to the growing burn in his muscles and the increasing shortness of breath. His desperate work-out was interrupted by a chiming sound from overhead, and he looked towards the dilapidated table. Lifting a hand, a tendril slithered from the port in his palm, and gathered up his phone, bringing it to his hand. A smooth bass, tired but otherwise unaffected by the specters that chased him, emerged from his throat as he answered it.

"This is Kraken."

His neutral expression fell at the response and he grumbled, "What are you doing? This is my work phone. I - No, it's always good to hear from you - especially right now - but I -"

A scowl grew at the answer and he sat on the edge of his bed, placing one hand upon his head.

"Of course I'm not going to answer my personal phone. I'm working. What do you want?"

He paused again, dragging his hand across his face as he sighed.

"No, it's . . . It's nothing . . . I'm just . . . The dreams. They're coming back . . . No, no. Don't worry about it. I'll-I'll work through it."

There was a purred response and he managed a weak chuckle, pulling the lollipop from his mouth as he answered his conversationalist.

"I certainly appreciate it, but I'll have to turn down that offer. I have a job to do . . . Yeah, the pay's good enough, but it's . . . You've heard of the Teen Titans? . . . Yeah, it's them. No, no, I can handle it . . . I just - I don't understand how these so-called heroes can put kids through this stuff. It's not like -"

He was interrupted by a beeping sound that emerged from his cot and he crawled over to the screen that he had strapped to the wall beside the cot. The monitor displayed the cautious entry of the Teen Titans as they made their way onto the craft, caught on a camera he had hidden on the railing connected to the bridge. He sighed as he sat up and said, "Hey, they managed to find me. I need to take care of this. I'm probably going to have to . . . Thanks. I'll talk to you later, okay? . . . Yeah, yeah, hugs and kisses. Bye."

A tendril coiled about the phone before tightening and crushing it, ensuring that no data would be salvaged from any of its components as Kraken lifted his helmet from the table, his grim face and sunken eyes reflected in its visor.

* * *

**Jump City South Harbor. 1016 Hours, 22 JULY 2014**

Upon the ship's deck, the Titans advanced carefully, moving in pairs as Starfire floated above them, ensuring that no traps had been laid. They had spotted the miniature camera too late, and had since deactivated it as they continued their search. The signal of grudging affection and irritation that Raven had felt from the lower decks had since disappeared and she struggled to find it again. Beast Boy shifted into a bloodhound before gagging and quickly shifting back into his human form, pinching his nose.

"All right, so beneath all the fish, saltwater, and guano, our new favorite creepy-crawler is definitely hanging out here."

"How charming," Raven muttered.

"I don't know," Beast Boy mused, stroking his chin before putting out his hands to frame the deck. "Just needs some feng shui-ing. Definitely gonna wanna go with the whole creepy ghost ship vibe it's already got going. Clear away the droppings, put up a fog machine over there, get some spooky sea shanties playing . . ."

Robin frowned as he wandered through the control room that rose above the deck, its enclosed space making it one of the few apparently clean places on the ship. A layer of dust had gathered upon the panels, and he brushed it away as a thought, checking the gauges more out of curiosity than any suspicion. With a sigh, he exited the cabin to meet up with Cyborg who had checked the surrounding interiors, and signified that they were empty with a small shake of his head.

They were pulled from their search by a scream that shattered the evening, and they raced forward to witness Starfire being slammed into the deck with enough force to create a considerable dent. Rising over the sides of the vessel were dozens of Kraken's slender tendrils, many binding and twisting together. They stabbed into the deck, burrowing into the metal and the ship lurched.

"This is not some game for you kids to be playing," Kraken's voice roared from the loudspeakers. "You should be going to dances, playing games and sports, staying up too late. Not putting your lives on a line for a crusade that should be left to, at the very least, some adults."

"Think he practiced that speech?" Beast boy mused to the sorceress as he morphed into a pterodactyl and lifted into the air.

"We have the ability to help people! As long as we can, it is our responsibility to do so!" Robin shouted as he launched birdarangs to cut through the tendril that had captured Starfire.

"Okay, be honest now. You spent at least an hour last night coming up with responses to this guy, didn't you?" accused the changeling.

Not expecting an answer, he swooped through the tentacles, leading them in a chase to tangle them together. They struggled with the knot that they had been tied into before seeming to meld together and then pull free easily, grappling for the pterodactyl who squawked and ducked out of the way. As they closed in about him, he shifted into a spider monkey and hooted as he swung through the tendrils. Landing upon one of them, he changed into a burly chimp and wrapped his numerous digits about it, struggling to pull it apart before other tendrils grabbed at him and he bounded away.

"You have the frequency ready?" Robin asked Cyborg as he drew a pair of birdarangs. Cyborg's arm reconfigured into a sonic cannon and he checked the readings on it before nodding grimly.

"Booyah," he confirmed.

"Then let's go," the Boy Wonder leapt from his perch on the railing, sending his weaponry spinning forward. Following behind him, Cyborg blasted an approaching tentacle and it vibrated under the frequency of his blast before crumbling apart. Landing heavily upon the deck, he blasted the tentacles with a frequency that broke the bonds between the nanocells, reverting them to their inactive state. Metallic dust collected upon the deck and in the water as he fired at the wavering targets that never seemed to decrease.

Starfire ducked between the grasping tentacles, occasionally providing the simian Beast Boy with a hand, or a much-needed lift, as he swung about the jungle of whirring tendrils. Abandoned shipping containers levitated into the air, deflecting Kraken's attacks and often turning to pin them long enough for Cyborg to unleash a blast. Raven floated in the center of the chaos, her arms extended and her eyes glowing black as she manipulated her arsenal, always leaving one to linger at her side in case of defense. Weaving through the serpentine limbs, Robin launched his birdarangs at them, conserving the ones he had hastily constructed to unleash the same pulse as Cyborg's sonic cannon.

"How much more do you to need to suffer before you children learn that you shouldn't be doing this?" Kraken growled through the speakers. A series of the tendrils that had been snaking along the deck suddenly snapped up to coil about Cyborg's sonic cannon and the techno-teen screamed as they bit and twisted into it, crushing the mechanical forearm in their grip. "You've been beaten, you've been betrayed, you've lost people you care about - and you're only children! Do you have any idea what you're doing? What you're risking?!"

"Our lives," Raven answered. "And if it can save a single life, the risk is worth it."

There is a moment of hesitation before a cold, world-weary voice responds, "No. It isn't."

Beast Boy landed heavily upon the deck in the form of a massive gorilla, grunting as he seized the tentacles entrapped about Cyborg's arm and mustered the strength to rip them apart. As the disconnected portions dissipated, their sources coiled and grabbed Beast Boy's wrists and ankles, hauling him into the air before dragging him into the water. He changed as he was submerged, turning into a great white that thrashed against his capture, churning the bay. Adjusting to the murky waters, stirred by the thrashing tendrils and his own struggles, he saw Kraken, tentacles crawling from every port of his body and reaching upward. He was in civilian attire save for his helmet, and the visored gaze turned to coldly regard the changeling.

The restraints tightened about him for an instant before he was hurled back out of the water, arching through the air. Startled by the sudden shift in his environment, he did not think to change until he was crashing back into the ocean, several hundred yards away from the ship and his friends. With one Titan displaced and another disarmed, Kraken made another attempt at enlightening the team, trying to keep the pleading tone from his voice.

"You kids want to help the world? Join the Boy Scouts. Start a fundraiser. Actually _go_ to school. It doesn't really matter, just stop throwing yourselves at every murderer, rapist, and other monster that crawls out of the cesspits of this goddamn planet!"

"Which one of those are you?" Cyborg grumbled, one hand pressed to his ruined stump.

Tendrils hovered over him and he dove to the side, rolling to his feet as they shot after him. As the first reached for him, he spun about and hacked at it with the jagged shard of metal from one of the shipping containers that had been ripped apart, stabbing it into the ground. The crude armament failed to cut through the encroaching limbs, but it was enough to keep them from seizing him momentarily until one struck at his crippled limb. A scream tore from his mouth as metal shrieked and wires snapped with the removal of his mangled, cybernetic forearm that the tendrils callously tightened about, fully reducing it to scrap.

"Cyborg!"

Robin's distraction, his worry for his downed friend, was quickly taken advantage of as the writhing lashes snapped out towards him. Gritting his teeth, he threw one of the preserved birdarangs into their midst and leapt away as it detonated, reducing the mass to silvery dust. Another birdarang flickered into his hand but before he could launch it, a tendril coiled about his arm. Pulled up short, he became easy prey for the others and they wrapped about his extremities, hauling him into the air as one tightened about his neck. Raven turned towards him only to feel the ground beneath her shift and then explode into a tangle that bound about her.

"You will release my friends now before I make you regret fighting us."

Green energy glowed in Starfire's glare and her tone was imperious as she issued the order, filled with all the command and threat that the queen of Tamaran could harness. There was no response beyond the braiding of numerous tangles that then shot towards her. Starbolts blazed about her fists as she dove downwards, weaving around them and punching through the deck of the ship and the floors beneath it, disappearing from the view of the tentacles. A final boom sounded as she crashed through the bottom of the vessel, and the water frothed and boiling at her entry. Adjusting her aim, she zoomed towards the startled villain who attempted to form a barrier about his body, but even as the thought spread to his implants, her fists were upon his chest, searing his skin and shoving him into the ocean floor.

The force of the blow set him plummeting through the sandy ground below and the ship groaned as his tendrils pulled it along with him before going lax as his helmet cracked against a rock. Upon the ship, which was sinking regardless of his pull or not, the heroes were suddenly freed from the imprisonment that had seized about them. Being the first to recover, Raven streaked towards her comrades, struggling to help Cyborg to his feet as she collected his arm. A green dolphin crested the side of the violently rocking ship and shifted into a pterodactyl before he landed. Pushing his body against the deck, he shifted closer as Raven lowered Cyborg upon his broad back before she went to collect Robin.

Beast Boy carried his friend to the docks as the sorceress reached their desperately gasping leader, a hand massaging his throat where the band of the tendril had been pressed into his skin. He coughed and sputtered painfully as she lifted him and the changeling returned, offering a spare back that the avian-themed pair boarded. The sorceress tried to ease the dark-haired boy's struggle and his breathing started to return to normal as Beast Boy landed beside Cyborg who had sprawled out upon the docks, hurt but fully conscious. After his passengers had disembarked, the changeling skittered over to the typically larger youth and draped his wings across him, cradling his body

"Cy, dude, buddy - you're okay, right? Talk to me, tin man. Don't leave me!" Beast Boy wailed with what he felt was appropriate drama before Cyborg scowled and pushed him off.

"I'm practically used to it at this point. At least he didn't get anything organic," grunted the tall youth as he sat up on his own, examining his maimed arm in annoyance.

In the bay, the ship continued its slow descent into the waters as Starfire emerged, carrying a limp Kraken by the collar of his shirt. She cast him onto the stone docks and steam rose from her body as she began to dry herself off. Landing amongst her comrades, she sighed contentedly at the approaching scream of sirens, and stood over Kraken, ensuring that he was unconscious.

"I would very much like to put him in prison now," she said.

* * *

**Premiani Penthouse. 2308 Hours, 22 JULY 2014**

Alondra Arnetti sipped from a heavy-bottomed glass of amber liquor, one arm stretched across the back of her leather couch as she watched the news report with mild interest. A totaled police car lay on its side in a ditch, omni-directional holes tearing from its inside as the blonde reporter regaled the listeners of the emergency news bulletin with the escape of the supervillain Kraken. In the corner, a picture appeared of the lean-faced, blonde man and she cautioned her viewers to not engage and simply call the police if they saw him. Sitting at the edge of the couch, Cash frowned at the report, his elbows resting on his knees as he hunched over. As the scenes shifted to show the aftermath of the Titans' battle, Alondra pursed her lips in thought.

"Has anybody ever set up a betting operation on the outcome of fights between _cabos_?" she mused.

"Not beyond Roulette's enterprises," he supplied. "The lack of active viewing significantly complicates the process."

"But you could pull it off, _non hai potuto_?"

"Reaching such a desideratum would prove to be excessively byzantine," he grunted as he considered the task.

"English, _por favor,_" she said before downing the rest of her glass.

"You would require extensive security measures. The acquisition of the donnybrooks should be easy enough, but given their alacrity in forming, a near instantaneous notification system would be required," he mumbled, thinking through the process. He shrugged and added as an afterthought, "Collecting the debts."

"Collection is easy," she dismissed his concern, shaking her empty glass at him. Taking note of it, he grunted in compliance and accepted it from her. His large hand enveloped the glass, but he carried it gingerly as he moved to the kitchen and pulled a frosted bottle from the fridge. Pouring its contents into her cup until it hovered beneath the rim, he returned the bottle to its place and the refilled glass to her. She smiled and nodded as she accepted it.

"_Gracias._"

He grunted his welcome as he carefully lowered his bulk onto the couch, leaning back against it as he ran a hand over his face.

"Considerable elements are beyond my ken. But I could track and record the altercations with the proper equipment and secure the website," he noted.

"Make a list," she advised. "I'll send some boys to pick up whatever you need. Which reminds me, how goes the relationship with our new business associates?"

"Predictably. Your parvenu engage in palaver dedicated to perfidy. Should I begin-"

"_Espera, espera_. My what are what?" she interjected with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

"Parvenu. Noun. A person who has recently or suddenly acquired wealth, importance, position, or the like, but has not yet developed the conventionally appropriate manners, dress, etcetera," he snapped. Without taking a breath, he continued, "Palaver. Noun. A conference or discussion."

"And you couldn't just say that?"

"I refrain from criticisms of your dialect and mannerisms unless provoked. What infraction have I committed to earn such derision?"

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a knot," she said, rolling her eyes before tapping a painted nail upon her glass. "Leave the _idiotas_ alone for now. I shall call a meeting and attempt to persuade them, but be prepared. Your talents may yet be required."

"Got it, boss babe," he nodded as she smiled about the thick rim of her glass.

* * *

**Here we go, another chapter up! We'll have one up for ACS tomorrow.** **We hope you enjoyed this second fight with Kraken and a slight view into his rather dark history. Meanwhile, Alondra continues her plots. As always, thanks for reading and please review!**

** Guest: Thanks! Glad to hear that. That'll come later. We figured we should give them some alone time for now. Cy and BB enjoy having fun. And Raven is a good friend, even if she sometimes has trouble expressing that.**


	5. Breather

**We do not own the rights to the Teen Titans or any affiliated characters.**

**We do own any unaffiliated characters.**

* * *

**Jump City Super Mall. 1157 Hours, 26 JULY 2014**

With enough space to fit several average-sized malls, the Jump City Super Mall was an extensive complex with a labyrinthine design that had almost assuredly been designed by somebody suffering from a complexity addiction. It housed an astounding variety of stores, both chain and local, with services ranging from its own bank to a laser tag arena. Sunlight streamed through large windows overhead and reached between the bridges and walkways of the upper floors to dapple the deepest realm. Large pots with artificial plants were placed at regular intervals along the floor, creating the illusion of life that was encouraged by the natural looking fountains, designed as brooks and waterfalls. Seasonal music emerged from the hidden speakers, celebrating the festivities though with summer's presence, it was bare of decoration.

Standing in front of one of the many map stands and attempting to decipher the color-coded diagrams was a slender girl in weathered cowboy boots. Sienna brown hair was arranged in a tomboyish cut, short and lightly ruffled. Between crimson-painted lips, she held a dull penny that was looped about her neck on a black string that passed through a hole over President Lincoln's head. Her white shirt had a wide collar, slipping over one rounded shoulder, and it skirted above the hem of her jean shorts. Freckles dotted her otherwise smooth skin and she was lightly tanned, familiar with the sun's golden rays. Raggedly cut shorts, which ended just after her pockets, squeezed her broad hips, molding to her shapely buttocks that drew numerous longing stares that she was not oblivious to.

As she felt another gaze slide past her hips and down her comely legs, she glanced about to see a handsome boy with tousled blonde hair standing next to a short girl who was talking animatedly. Catching his eyes, her lips pulled into a smile, and he flushed, guilt flashing across his features before turning back to his girlfriend. Dropping the penny from her lips, the brunette abandoned the map and sauntered across the floor, drawing even more stares with the unnecessary gyration of her hips as she moved. She clasped her hands behind her back, intertwining her fingers. The young man tried to keep his eyes focused downward, but as the short-haired girl drew near, he could not resist the urge to look upon her again.

"Hey, handsome," she smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Um, 'scuse me? That's my boyfriend you're talking to," scowled the girl, possessively hooking her arm with his.

"'Was,' sweetie. 'Was' your boyfriend," she corrected. The young man was frozen, mouth hanging open as the strange girl reached up to stroke his face. She continued, "Besides, he's been cheating on you. Not with me; this is our first meeting. But he's got a little honey on the side. Don't you?"

"Yes," answered the boy automatically only to blink, confused at his admission.

"B-brad?" gasped the girl on his arm, her grip loosening.

"I've been seeing Emma," he continued, his tone monotonous.

"And why don't you tell your precious snookums there when was the last time you _saw_ Emma?" pressed the strange girl.

"I said I was working last week on your birthday. I wasn't. I was at Holly's house," he replied obediently.

"Ooh, Brad," clucked the short-haired girl as Brad's girlfriend gaped at him, tears starting to gather in her eyes. "That's just cold. Still, doesn't it feel good to get that off your chest?"

"Yes," he answered dutifully.

"Why-why are you doing this?" sobbed the girl as she pulled away from him, her gaze one of revulsion.

"Aww, sweetie," pouted the short-haired girl, patting the other's cheek consolingly. "It's nothing personal. I mean, for what it's worth, he _does_ actually like you. But, at the end of the day, he's just a horny little boy who wants more than you can give him."

Slapping away the mockingly compassionate hand, the jilted girl delivered a surprisingly powerful blow that felled her abruptly ex-boyfriend. As he blinked in surprise, she sniffed as she held back the tears and fled the scene, leaving the astonished boy to the short-haired girl who chuckled mischievously. She leaned down, stroked his cheek, and his gaze fell to the penny that dangled from her neck, growing cloudy again as he watched it dance upon the string. His slack jaw closed and he rose to his feet, eyes strangely out of focus as the girl giggled excitedly and clapped her hands at her latest acquisition.

"Ooh, Brad, you and I are going to have so much fun together," she beamed. After a moment, she shrugged and admitted, "Well, it's actually more like I'm going to have fun _with_ you, but now we're just getting into silly semantics. Now, come on. Just follow the Sway."

As she delivered her directives, she turned and strode along the row of shops while Brad followed his newest object of obsession, gaze focused upon the sway of her hips.

* * *

**Titans Tower. 1202 Hours, 26 JULY 2014**

Raven watched from atop the roof of Titans Tower as a green blur raced through the obstacle course, dodging through the flames to save the civilian. He elongated into a slender serpent, slithering between the spinning pillars with stout limbs, the second mannequin secured. Alone, and as far as he knew unseen, he progressed at an expedient rate, fully awake and devoid of the desire to entertain others. His flow between forms was expertly paced and he did not slow, moving even as the lines of his shape blurred into something else.

Robin had dedicated himself to the search of the escaped Kraken though Starfire ensured he did not become obsessive again. With familiar ease, Cyborg had replaced his lost limb and had since been conducting secretive modifications. When asked about them, his only response was to rub his hands together in glee and give his well-learned, from years of hearing it, maniacal cackle. Then he would slip away to his room to continue his work, and Raven to expect Beast Boy to pester her once again. Except he was strangely absent from the common room, and though she held out as long as she could, her inquisitiveness eventually overcame her considerable willpower and she had set out to find him.

After ensuring that he was not in his room, she had proceeded to the roof, planning to spot him from afar upon the rock he often turned to for introspection. Instead, she had heard the distant sounds of the obstacle course and found the changeling going through its challenges. Since her initial viewing, he had run through five more times and as he completed the latest round, he rose to the console and terminated the course, its equipment disappearing back into the scenery. She could feel his fatigue and weariness, accompanied by a deep satisfaction as he strode down their beach where gentle waves lapped at the shore. He walked into them until the water pushed gently against his knees before disappearing, barely breaking the surface.

Even when he adopted an animal form, she could still sense him though it was through the haze of an animal's instincts and desires. She had pondered an innocuous manner in which to strike up a conversation on how greatly his thoughts were influenced by his forms, but had never found what felt to be the right opportunity to pose her inquiry. Focusing on the distant waters, she watched a shadow move swiftly beneath the surface, darting through them. It suddenly swelled, disrupting the water before diving beyond the range of her vision. Lifting from the ledge she stood upon, she drifted downward, coming to alight upon one of the rocks that dotted the shining sands. She studied the ocean's surface, plumbing its depths in her search for her friend before there was a ripple and a verdant ridge breeched the surface in the distance.

Slowly, with streams of water running down craggy hide, a brachiosaurus emerged from the ocean, ponderous footsteps surging forth. As he drew closer to land, his form shifted into a diplodocus and he thundered onto the island, thin tail creating cracking sounds as he whipped it through the air to remove the water still rolling from his heavy scales. He scratched at his ear with his hindlimb and sat for a moment before loping over to a rock bathed in sunlight upon which he promptly morphed into a cat that seemed to melt upon the heated stone, basking in contentment.

Floating towards her still unaware compatriot, she noted the lazy dance of his tail as he stood, padding about upon the rock as though searching for a more comfortable niche to settle in. Finally, he flopped back onto his side and stretched in the sunlight, his purr evident even from her position in the air. Hovering several feet above him and out of his rays, she mused, "You take your cat-naps rather literally."

"Rae, _I_ wouldn't have made that joke," he said, not stirring from his resting position. Suddenly, he shifted into his human form and sat up to face her, grinning and snickering, "Who am I kidding? I _have_ made that joke. Well, something along those lines at least."

"Trust me, Garfield, I know," she recalled dryly as she settled on the rock, facing him as her legs naturally crossed. He gave her a quizzical glance, and she could taste his curiosity as he tried to decipher the reason behind her presence, a task he was not alone in. For the first time since she had known him, he seemed content to allow the relative silence drag on, charging her with the sparking of the conversation. Reaching for an idea for a moment, and supremely glad that she was the one with empathy, she recalled a query that had been plaguing since the emergence of her more invasive psychic powers. Finally, she cleared her throat, causing his ears to perk, and she asked, "Why do you have such sensitive ears?"

He blinked, subconsciously running his hand along one of them while Raven picked up an internal rant at her cowardice and timidity that had traded out her subject of interest for a far more benign topic. Dropping his hand, Beast Boy shrugged, "I don't know. Probably just something to with the way the serum changed. Probably. I think."

"You think?"

"I don't really remember too much before - well, everything," he shrugged, waving vaguely towards his face. "There are some things, but not much."

"Such as?"

"Mostly my parents. My dad used to read his biology books to me when I couldn't - or wouldn't -go to sleep. Mom didn't like it when he did that," he chuckled and she could feel the nostalgia rolling off of him in waves, tinged by sorrow that had dulled but never disappeared over the years. Shaking it away, he sat up and asked, "What about you? Do you remember much about your mom?"

"This seems like an odd place to hold such a conversation," she pointed out.

"Hey, you're the one who started it."

"I was merely asking in regard to your ears."

"My velvety, very dashing ears," he preened the pointed appendages.

"Of course," she rolled her eyes. "Irresistibly dashing."

"Ooh, irresistible?" he grinned. "And me without my recorder."

"And should you bring it up again, I shall deny it," she nodded, pleased that her comment had suitably distracted him from his earlier track of questioning. She felt oddly comfortable in his presence, not as assured and protected as Robin and Cyborg made her feel, but nevertheless safe and curiously content. There was a sense, loose though it was, of being home, and she tried not to ponder it for too long. Serenity and inner peace was her long-sought goal, and if she found it in rambling conversation with Beast Boy, the universe was nowhere near as funny as it thought it was. They exchanged banter for several minutes as she mounted the courage to ask him about his mental blocks when they were interrupted by a fierce growl.

Beast Boy flushed, as much as his odd skin tone would permit him to do so and smiled sheepishly as he clutched at his unruly stomach. "Eheh. Sorry about that."

"It is lunchtime," she acknowledged, standing as she gauged the sun's position. Beast Boy shot to his feet before hesitating, the walls of his mind coming crashing back into place but not before she caught a flash of nervousness. Intrigued by it, she permitted him a moment to gather and marshal his words.

"Hey, you wanna maybe go out and grab a bite to eat?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she accused, "I have already stated that I do not intend to consume fake meat."

"No, no. I must meant to just a regular restaurant in the mall or something," he quickly explained. "Or we could go to some sort of tea-zen-goth place you like."

"I imagine that pulling Robin and Cyborg away from their tasks will be as met with as much success as pulling you from your video games," she pointed out.

"Oh, no, I meant - um, yeah. Besides, my obsession with games is way healthier than any of Robin's," he scoffed, quickly covering up the slight grimace at her suggestion.

"Assuredly," she agreed dryly. She lifted upward and said, "Starfire would likely be interested. I shall collect her."

"Awesome," he sighed as she departed for the Tower.

* * *

**Downtown Jump City. 1236 Hours, 26 JULY 2014**

The three teenagers progressed down the sidewalk, their uniforms traded out for civilian attire and holo-rings on their fingers to afford them some peace as they conducted their business. Beast Boy appeared as a lithe blonde with a grey beanie pulled over his hair, a dark blue shirt featuring a strange, green creature composed of blocks, and canvas shorts held to his slim waist by a belt with a frayed end. Starfire's skin and hair tone had been shifted to more natural hues for the human populace and she had donned a flattering white sundress. Hidden within the hood of her light sweatshirt, Raven's simple attire was, unsurprisingly, composed entirely of dark blue colors. Her hands did not leave the sanctuary of her pockets and she avidly studied the citizens as they strode by.

"Oh, c'mon! You can never go wrong with pizza," Gar argued with the redhead.

'Kori' gave him a tired stare and retorted, "Forgive me if I have grown weary of eating it for three out of the past five days, friend, but I would prefer something else."

"If we could pick something before my stomach eats a hole through itself, that would be nice," said the disguised sorceress, using the alias of 'Rachel.'

"All right. How about the next eatery we see?" Gar suggested.

"Whatever," Rachel huffed while Kori nodded.

"That is acceptable."

"Sweet," Gar grinned as he clenched his eyes shut and clawed at the air before him. "Now, if one of you could let me know when we finally get to a pizza place. . ."

"Make a right turn, now," Rachel suggested as they passed by stairs leading downward.

"You do realize that I can hear dudes walking on those, right?"

"A pity," she sighed.

"There!" Kori exclaimed excitedly, clapping Gar on the shoulder with enough force to nearly send him tumbling to the floor. As she held back from lifting into the air, she pointed excitedly down the street. "That place there."

Gar sniffed the air and licked his lips as his eyes brightened, "I have no idea what I'm smelling, but I'm going to eat it."

"Please be poison, please be poison," Rachel muttered, crossing her fingers and earning the disguised changeling's glare.

"Both of you behave," scolded the redhead as she set off at a brisk pace towards the restaurant, ignoring the raspberry the pair exchanged. It was a modest structure, nestled between two taller buildings of grey stone that made its red roof and colorful walls all the more inviting. Garden boxes beneath the storefront windows overflowed with lushly colored foliage, dotted with colorful flowers that vastly exceeded the rainbow. Some of the more enthusiastic plants had grown beyond the boxes' containment, but it appeared natural instead of messy. Written in elegantly swooping, golden letters was the title of 'Genevieve,' set on the somber black background of the placard over the door. As the trio grew closer, the scent that Gar had begun to salivate over became apparent to his companions, and even Rachel could not resist the urge to lick her lips.

Before they could enter, a girl with short, brown hair burst through the door, slamming into Kori. While the redhead merely blinked at the impact, it threw the brunette to the ground and she gaped up at the taller girl before two men with chiseled features lifted her to her cowboy boot-clad feet. Shaken from her stupor, they took off down the street, the short-haired girl casting a final glance backwards before ducking down an alley. The trio of heroes hesitated, exchanging a glance before entering the darkly carpeted realm. Immaculate white cloths covered the tables and red flowers bloomed in the stout glasses, expertly folded napkins arranged to resemble petals. Tall-backed chairs with thick cushions were arranged about the tables and meticulously spaced. An amber glow lit the room, created by strategically placed wall sconces and a single hanging chandelier composed of hundreds of glittering crystals.

Unfortunately, their attention was pulled from the tasteful decor towards a short, pretty woman with tanned skin whose voice belied her size. A black shirt with long sleeves and twin rows of large buttons was fitted over her broad, voluptuous frame. Matching pants reached to her shiny, flat-soled shoes. Thick, ebony hair tumbled from her head in innumerable curls and rage flashed in her emerald eyes as she delivered a verbal lashing to a bewildered young man with a ferocity that caused even Rachel to flinch.

"-_que vous pouvez me voler! Ne pense pas que je ne porterai pas plainte! Et ne vous avisez pas de doute que je ne serai pas dans cette petite galerie __à__ regarder car ils pompent le poison dans les veines."_

With a scoff, she made a motion to one of the waiters who approached to seize the confused youth's arm and drag him away. The short woman ran her fingers through her hair before putting on a bright smile and turning to her bewildered patrons, making her announcement in a lightly accented voice, "Forgive the theatrics, ladies and gentlemen. Please, enjoy your meals, and accept our apology in the form of a free dessert of your choice."

There was a murmur of gratitude and she beamed as she moved between the tables, shaking hands with the people who sat at them. Leaning towards the girls, Gar whispered, "All right, anybody else kinda wet their pants a little?"

"Pleasant," Rachel observed dryly.

"Any idea what she was speaking?"

"French, I believe," Kori answered, earning curious glances from her friends to which she shrugged. "Robin knows a little bit."

"Yuh-oh - dragon lady, twelve o'clock. Hide me," Gar whispered, ducking behind Kori as the dark-haired woman approached. She extended soft hands to capture Kori's calloused palm and long fingers.

"Hello, hello. I am Adelaide Robert, owner and head chef of this establishment. Again, my apologies for that display. I'm sorry that that was your first experience of my beloved Genevieve. Please, come and sit, sit."

She ushered them to an empty table, sparing only a curious glance at Gar as he skittered to a seat though not before pulling one out for Rachel. Blinking in surprise, she muttered her thanks as the elder woman grabbed a heavy pitcher from a row on a stand along the wall. Ice clinked along its sides as she brought it over, filling Gar and Rachel's glasses but pausing at Kori whom had yet to remove the cloth carnation from the cup, afraid to ruin such careful beauty. Adelaide chuckled, "You like?"

"It's amazing. It almost looks real."

"My husband. He's good with his hands," she explained, a mischievous twinkle springing to life in her eyes. "He's tried to teach the others, but - eh."

"He runs the restaurant with you?" asked the redhead.

"No, no. He has his own work. He's on a business trip now, but the morning he left, I woke up to hundreds of them in the house so that I didn't run out before he returned."

"That's very sweet of him," smiled the redhead, admiring the flower in a new light. With a chuckle, Adelaide carefully lifted it as not to disturb its structure and handed it to the girl as she filled her glass.

"If you desire, you may take one," she offered.

"I - no - I couldn't possibly -"

"Yes, you can. It is merely cloth. Exquisitely folded, lightly scented, and masterfully placed, but, in the end, it is nothing irreplaceable," she assured her, pressing the folded flower into her hands. Filling, the glass, she straightened and sighed, "Now, I must return to my beloved kitchen before my dear idiots burn it down."

She departed, leaving Kori to inhale the scent of the flower, and the others to look through the menu, Gar turning to Rachel regularly to ask for clarification on numerous words.

* * *

**Cafeteria, Jump City Penitentiary. 1248 Hours, 26 JULY 2014**

". . . _down, down and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire, the ring of-_"

"_Ring of Fire?_ Really? You don't think that's maybe, I don't know, a bit on the nose?"

Arson's orange eyes flashed up from his inspection of the potatoes that he had been dragging his plastic fork through and he grumbled, "Don'cha have to get to yer lil' beaner friends, Rube?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure you don't get shanked or something, man. With all the friends you've been making and your pleasant demeanor, I figured you could use somebody to watch your back," Rubio shrugged, setting his elbows on the table.

"Ah'm touched. Really. Ah'm tearin' up here."

"Yeah, you're touched all right - in the head. Look, you're a good cellmate. You don't mess with me, you only threaten to kill me occasionally - honestly, the only real problem is that music."

"They're classics," he snapped.

"You know what? I won't even argue that. I will give that to you," he said generously. "I'd just rather that _you_ stop singing them. My ears can't take it anymore."

"Ain't nothing wrong with my singin'. Ma always said that ah had the voice of an angel," he retorted sourly.

"Yeah, well, this might surprise you, man, but mom's lie. Like, mine told me that I was gonna do great things," he scoffed only to find a fork leveled at his throat.

"Then, as a good son, it's yer job to prove her right," he directed before returning his attention to the suspiciously lumpy mash potatoes and continuing his investigation of them. Rubio opened his mouth to respond only for his instincts to warn him of the sudden presences at his side and he uneasily glanced over his shoulder to find a pair of burly men looming over him. Glancing about, he found that Arson was similarly flanked but the burnt man took no notice of the thugs as he prodded at his potatoes, certain that he had witnessed unbidden movement.

Abandoning his tray, the younger man fled the scene and the large men settled onto the bench as a final figure joined the group. Older than the others, he had silvery hair and thick glasses that made him appear grandfatherly, and the mouth under his bushy mustache seemed to naturally curl into a smile. The image was marred by the swastika prominently emblazoned upon his neck and the complete lack of anything resembling compassion in his eyes. Settling between the small gang that had formed about Arson, who continued his feigned ignorance of their presences, he pushed the tray out of his way and clasped his hands together upon the table.

"Enjoying your lunch, Mr. Arson?" he asked.

"Well, it don't hold a candle to the cuisine down in the Dallas prison system, but ah've certainly had worse," said the orange-eyed man, finally lifting his gaze and using his fork to illustrate his words. He turned it suddenly and stabbed it into his potatoes before scooping them into his mouth, hurriedly gulping them down without tasting them. Before making another stab, he mused, "So, what brings y'all around these parts, Clay? Don'cha girls have to braid each other's hair or somethin'? Oh, wait. Skinheads. My bad."

"You really want to make a joke about missing hair?" asked the older man.

Running his fingers over his scarred scalp, Arson shrugged, "Y'all shoulda seen me back when ah had a full head of hair. Woulda had 'nuff for all y'all."

"Well, since you can't offer us that anymore, maybe there's something else you can give us."

"Told'ja, Clay, ah'm already runnin' with a gang."

"So you've said. But, I never see anybody watching your back. That's dangerous around here."

"Ah've managed."

"For now," the elder nodded concessively before his glare sharpened. "But, time's a coming where you won't be able to anymore. Join now, or someday very soon, you're going to wish you had."

Arson snorted and shook his head as he tapped his fork against his tray, "Ah tell yah, Nazi-wannabes these days. No sense of tact."

Suddenly pounding his fist on the corner of his tray, he catapulted into the face of the man at his side before a punch from the other slammed across his face. He recovered quickly and swung back into him, driving him from the bench and tackling him to the ground before pummeling him. A cruel glee burned in his eyes, a flickering glow as he battered the larger man before beefy arms scooped under his own and lifted him into the air. Pressing his teeth together, he threw up both his feet before driving them back, grinning at the snapping sound as they made contact with his captor's thigh. The grip on him disappeared and he dropped to the floor as the man howled in pain, clutching at his leg, which made him the perfect height for Arson to grab his skull and drive his knee into his foe's chin.

A crowd cheered and hollered as the larger man dropped, but the scarred man's celebration was interrupted by a tray slamming across the back of his head and casting him onto the table. Meaty hands grabbed his hands while his attacker abandoned the impromptu weapon to seize his ankles, keeping him upon the table. Clay lowered his head to meet the thrashing man's glare and gave a small smile.

"You should've just listened to us, Mr. Arson. Now we have to - upph!"

Tearing a hand free, Arson grabbed the elder's head and slammed it against the table as he seethed, "Ah'm gonna burn yah beyond recognition."

Clay grunted as he tried to tear away from the steely grasp and his thugs hammered on the man while trying to tear away Arson's hand. A glow rose in his eyes, flickering and dancing like the tongues of a flame before he blinked and shook his head, the light dying out as he released his grip. Reeling back, Clay fell to the floor as the guards finally responded, pushing through the crowd and forcing them to disperse before setting upon the perpetrators of the spectacle. The large men were pulled away and shoved to the floor and Arson did not struggle as a guard hauled him to his feet, pulling his arms behind his back as he shouted orders at him. Catching Clay's gaze, he flashed a small smile and let the guard march him away.

* * *

**Well, we get a new villain, a chance for the Titans to kinda relax, and a quick look at what Arson's been up to! We hope that you've all been enjoying the characters we've been introducing and we might just keep checking in on Arson. What do you guys think? Is he interesting enough to get regular appearances?**

**Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Carnivore

**We do not own the rights to the Teen Titans or any affiliated characters.**

**We do own all unaffiliated characters.**

* * *

**Unknown. Unknown, Unknown**

Filth. Pollution. Smog. Suffocating her, clogging throat. Stench strong, tearing awake. Light. Bright. Overwhelming; blinding. Adjust, slowly. Pain's still there, but softer. Breathing hurts. Place is wrong. Wrong. Where?

See. Not home. Not woods. All around, not-trees. Bigger, taller. No leaves. Shiny panels, holding sun. Stone and metal. Hives. Soft, pudgy drones. Two-legs. Walking, plodding, behind shiny screens. Stopping. Talking. Laughing? Slow. Weak. Where are its predators? Ledge. Balance, peer. On top of not-tree. High. More two-legs. Many. Between them, shiny boxes. Colorful. Colors. More than time before coldness. Like flowers but moving, gathering and waiting for others. Two-legs dodge around. Predators? Lazy predators.

Listen. Hurts, hurts, hurts. Too much. Chatter, rumbles, screams. Block. Block it out. Two-legs noisy, lazy predators noisier. Too much. Adjust. Growl, whimper. Not-tree hot. Shade. Need shade. Look. Branch thing? Shade. Has shade. Crawl, crouch, listen. Softer now. Better. Still too loud. Two-legs talk. Talk too much. Should learn to listen. Lazy predator screams, horrible sound. Hurts. Want stop.

Taste. Wrong. Air is wrong. Something sick? Dying? Worse. Like poison. Floating toxins. Still worse. Hates tongue. Tongue hates back. Spit. Taste still there. Water? Want water. Wash out mouth. Burns. Lips sealed, still burns.

Touch. Feel. Off. Stone is not-stone. Strange. Weird. Too hot. Baked in sun. Too much. Needs trees, leaves. Rough. Pebbly. Pricks at feet, but flat. Not like sharp stones. No cutting. Clean. Unnatural. No dirt. No sap. Unnatural. Wrong. Wrong.

Smell. Don't smell. Bad smell. Worst smell. Worse than rot. Worse than after-food. Belching lazy predators. Stinking breath. Long-ear thing in belly moving. Rising. Force back down. Spit. Tastes better than place. Nose hurts. Stench hurt. Horrible. Horrible. But food. Beneath stench, food. Meat, flesh. Food. Stomach rumbles. Hungry. Long-ear too small. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Smells good. Fresh. Feed. Eat. Consume.

Wait. Not home. Stop. Think. Think. Remember. Was home. Then sleep. Before sleep? Things. Dark things. Birds? Moving. In trees. Her trees. Her home. Marked. Not theirs. Pain. In shoulder. Thing was there, like stinger. With tiny feathers. Rip out. Growl. Attack. Tough hide. But not tough enough. Claws sliced. Tore. Found flesh. Found blood. Two-legs. Bleed good. Taste good. Then more stinging. All over. Turned. Challenged. But wobbled. Weak. Sleepy. Fell asleep. Then woke. Here. Strange place. Wrong place.

Rage. Anger. Hunger. Take from home. Leave. Hunt. Make take home. Stomach whining. Hunger. Stabbing, twisting. Hunger. Need eat. Need meat.

Edge. Look. Look. Two-legs. Many. Fat, slow. Weak. Easy prey. Lots of meat. Little trouble. Eat good. Eat. But predators. Pred - look. Not predator. Two-leg opening side. Going in. No prey that dumb. Look. More. Leaving. Going in. Not predators. Caves? Moving caves? Maybe shell. Snails. Fast snails. Maybe. But, more with no shells. Plenty to eat.

Jump. Fall. Falling. Wind feels right, besides stink. See shell. Stopping near other two-legs. Closer. Side opening. Closer. Two-leg getting out, shutting side. Strange shell. Stinky shell. Closer. Shell beeps. Beep-beep. Strange. Closer. Two-leg at silver stick. Feeding it? Landing.

Shell crumples. No cracking. Shriek, and top tears way. Inside soft. Smells funny. Good funny. Almost home but fake. But then fear. Not her. Their fear. Shouts. Strange sounds. Familiar, not familiar. Remember. Something there, tugging, pulling. Name?

No. No time. Eat. Track. Home. Follow. No memories. No more pain. Jump. Out of shell. Strange stone. Coarse, cracked. Two-legs, all around. Watching. Baring teeth. Threat. But no moving. Standing still. Next to tiny, silver tree, male. Fallen. Staring. Terrified. Good fear. Tasty. Salivate. Purr. Whoops. Focus. Outnumbered. Surrounded. Sounds. Two-legs with strange things. Little boxes. Weapons? Some talking to, some pointing at her. Hungry. Dislike. Growl.

There. Fear. Crouch, tensed. Growl. Threaten. Hungry. Two-legs back away. Many. Too many. Too close. Stop! Two-leg. Moving closer. Flabby. Shedding. Making sounds. Familiar, not familiar. Smells sweet. Wants to help. Wrong. Don't need help. Need food. Hand reaching. Slight shake. Smells sweet. Shift. Let two-leg draw closer. Arm extended. Reaching. Sweet. Hungry. Off-balance. Strike!

Teeth close. Air. Hungry. Two-legs pulled back. Saved by herd. But, fear. Hungry. Sweet, sweet fear. Hungry. Screams. Shrieks. Prey, running. Fleeing. Fun. Hungry.

Smile.

_Feed_.

* * *

**Titans Tower. 1129 Hours, 02 AUGUST 2014**

"C'mon, what'cha got? What'cha got?! Nothing! That's right," Cyborg grinned as his fingers frantically darted about the controller in his hands.

"Oh, I'll show you what I got," Beast Boy retorted, attempting to maneuver his digital vehicle about Cyborg's craft only to be thwarted by it shifting in front of him.

"Yeah, bring it. Bring it," urged the larger youth.

"Dude, it is so brung!"

"It doesn't matter how many times you use it. That is still not correct grammar," Raven sighed from her place on the couch, but Beast Boy paid no heed to her comment. His focus was entirely dedicated to the game as he watched for the opportunity to make his move. As Cyborg drifted over to block him from passing once again, he swooped back to the other side and activated his boost, cutting ahead of him with a triumphant shout.

"Hah! Eat it, tin man."

"Race isn't over yet, green genes," he countered. Despite his bravado, the distance to the finish line was rapidly closing, and Beast Boy maintained his dominance. Raven could feel the excitement and despair pouring off of the changeling and Cyborg respectively, and she wondered how such a game could produce such heightened emotions. As his vehicle drew closer to the finish, Beast Boy stood as his friend hammered frantically at the buttons and just as the violet vehicle was about to cross the checkered line, the lights turned red and the screen was replaced with a map of a city.

Beast Boy's elation abruptly dissipated and he dropped to his knees as he howled, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I. Was. So. CLOSE!"

"Quit your bawlin', salad head. We've got a city to save," Cyborg said as he hid his relieved grin and Robin and Starfire entered the room.

"Your noble intentions are somewhat marred by your satisfaction," Raven noted, closing her heavy book.

"King Cyborg maintains his reign," he shrugged, his smirk growing despite his attempts to stifle it.

"There are reports of some type of monster rampaging through the city," Robin announced. "I've sent the last known coordinates to your Communicators."

"Good," Beast Boy said as he stood, his expression strangely serious as he clenched his fist. "I'm going to kick the butt of the loser that made me lose!"

As he took the form of a large eagle that released a fierce shriek as he shot through the door, heading to the roof, Raven commented, "At least he's motivated."

Cyborg and Robin made their way to the basement and their vehicles while the girls took flight, following Beast Boy's path, both surprised and impressed with the distance he had gained. They joined him as he swept over the crystalline waters that sparkled under the bright rays of the sun and weaved through the spires of the city. He cut cleanly through narrow passages, tucking his wings and soaring over the streets until the scream of sirens reached his ears. Looking back to the others, he gave a sharp screech and then banked, cutting down an alley and zooming towards the flashing lights that passed by the other end.

Flying over them, his keen gaze picked up a dark figure, one that he was unfamiliar with, hurtling over the rooftops with unnatural grace and speed. At first he though the person was wearing a cloak before he realized that it was her hair that flowed behind her, loamy brown and long enough to completely cover her short form. Long-dried mud and dirt matted the thick locks, and small branches twisted within the tangle. Hands and feet flowed seamlessly in unison to propel her forward, and her movements were somewhere between those of a gorilla and a lioness. Deep lines scarred the roofs in the wake of her passage and as she leapt at a taller building, her talons bit into the wall, allowing her to travel up it without slowing.

There was a tan flash, and he realized, somewhat abashedly, that she was nude save for the layer of dirt and grime that covered her. She paused upon the corner of a structure without warning and whirled about, her golden gaze finding Beast Boy, and he froze as he caught sight of her. Her shape was human, beyond the claws and the fangs bared in an animalistic snarl, but there was something unquestionably alien about her. Some feature that he could not name separated her from the remainder of the race, but that did not stop the very human and very devious grin from spreading across her lips before she darted down the side of the building, diving into a narrow alley that the police cars had followed her into.

As the last car in the blaring convoy scraped into the passage, their quarry suddenly threw herself from the wall, and bounded off the opposite building to slam atop the hood of the lead car. Wicked claws anchored her in place as the vehicle lurched to a halt and its companions crunched into each other as they jolted to a stop. The officers gawked at the woman as her lips stretched into a foreboding smile before she lifted her hands and drove them heedlessly into the hood, stabbing through it and ripping out gushing tubes and sparking wires. While the passengers fumbled with their sidearms, she leapt onto the wall again, one of her claws hooked in the hood of the car that she had split from the car, and she charged along the surface of bricks to leap atop the final police cruiser.

Lifting the jagged remains of her makeshift weapon overhead, she stabbed it into the heart of her new prey and its rumbled challenge fell silent. Behind her, the blue-garbed protectors of Jump City tried to open their doors only to bash them against the walls until there was just enough room for the leaner members to stick an arm through. Her positioning upon one of their number stayed their fire and the wild woman grinned again before she leapt atop the roof of the car. Quick slashes stripped away any protection the pair within had deluded themselves into thinking they had, and she hissed a wordless promise of what was to come.

The driver moved to draw his pistol but she discouraged such efforts with a kick that produced a sharp crack as his wrist smashed against the radio. Grinding her heel against the broken bones and eliciting a pained shout, the wild woman swung to catch his partner by her collar, tearing her from the passenger seat. Thrown onto the sidewalk, the young protector of the peace struggled to sit up and grab her firearm when the creature was suddenly looming over, claws pressed to either side of her prey's head and mouth open to showcase her dirty fangs. Her jaws opened wider and she lunged forward only to be deprived, yet again, of a mouthful of blood as she was hauled into the air.

The wild woman blinked in confusion at the increasingly distant street, suspended upside down by one foot as an authoritative voice declared, "That is quite enough. You shall hurt no one else."

Her eyes snapped up towards the golden girl who regarded her imperiously, and the long-haired woman snarled defiantly before suddenly twisting about, slipping free of Starfire's hold and coiling up her arm. Sliding onto her back, the savage slipped a leg under the heroine's chin, constricting against her neck, and she secured a triangle choke as she hung from the youth's back. As the heroine tried to peel away the deceptively strong limbs attempting to strangle her, teeth scraped and then pierced her toned leg and her attacker purred in vicious glee as she lapped at the opened well of blood.

Motivated by the sudden pain, Starfire gasped and managed to tear her away, throwing her at the street with a strained grunt. Her eyes blazed furiously as she seethed before blinking at the woman hurtling towards the ground at a dangerous pace. Reining in her warrior's instincts, she gasped, "I am very much sorry! That was not my intent!"

"I've got her," Raven assured her, shooting past and throwing a hand forward. A black aura encased the tumbling figure, halting her descent and carrying her to the low roof of a nearby building. Below them, Beast Boy sullenly helped Cyborg and Robin extricate the trapped police, glancing upwards as Starfire and Raven landed overhead with the fiend who had cost him his virtual victory. The sorceress huffed as the woman thrashed fiercely, struggling against the dark bonds, and Raven brought another hand to bear as she tried to focus on restraining her.

Rage, hunger, fear, and sorrow suddenly flooded her, threatening to snap her concentration, as her soul self amplified her empathic powers and transferred her captive's raw emotions to her. She could not stop the growl at humanity's weakness, their destruction of their own home, and Starfire regarded her worriedly as the grey-skinned girl shook her head and tried to push away the consuming thoughts. They persisted, pushing against her mental barriers and threatening to overwhelm her with sheer malevolence, appealing to a part of her that bore a greater resemblance to her father than she would ever admit. Sweat beaded upon her forehead and the aura holding the savage began to waver. Curiosity crept into the heady mix as the wild woman tested her weakening containment before giving Raven a fanged grin.

Starfire screamed for the sorceress as the feral assailant burst from her imprisonment, and time seemed to slow for Raven. She watched the bare feet hit the ground and immediately adjusted to launch the dirt-crusted figure forward. Her teammate moved to block the attack, but Raven could already see that she was not going to make it, and she brought her own arms up to defend herself. A black shield began to expand from them, but the claws were already catching and stabbing through the belly of her suit to reach her skin, shredding into the muscle and dragging along it. Pain surged along her abdomen as the razor-tipped fingers clenched and hurled her towards Starfire who managed to catch her friend as their foe fled, bounding from the roof to the street below.

Despite the pain arcing through her body, Raven tried to sit up only to be stopped by a gloved hand, and she suddenly noticed that Beast Boy had hurriedly joined them on the roof.

"Don't worry. We got this," he growled, his emerald eyes already taking on the blank, pearly sheen of his animal forms. With a nod to Starfire, he charged for the edge and leapt downward, joining Robin who had boarded his motorcycle to chase down the fleeing villainess. A sleek cheetah took the lead as Starfire held a small starbolt over her friend's wound and Cyborg checked on the battered officers.

The savage moved fluidly upon all four limbs, easily bypassing any obstacle upon the sidewalk, regardless if it was tables, trees, or even people. She shifted from running to clambering as easily as breathing, and her movements took on a serpentine aspect as she slithered through a crowd without slowing. Stopping atop a table that had been set outside to permit couples the opportunity to enjoy the pleasant weather, she hooked her claws in the backs of the chairs and launched one at each of the heroes pursuing her. Robin swerved out of the way while Beast Boy merely barreled into the form of a styracosaurus, thundering relentlessly forward as the chair bounced off his frill. His target hissed before leaping into the air as he crashed towards her with a bellow, sending a table flying into the air.

She landed upon his back and quickly found that she could not penetrate the moss green scales. Seizing his frill as he attempted to buck her off, she swung over his head, nimbly avoiding the horns to grind her heel into one of his blank eyes. Jumping away as he jerked his head about and crashed into the restaurant, she smirked at the masked boy who had brought a pair of short staves to bear against her.

"That's enough. Stand down now, and nobody else has to get hurt," he offered.

"H-h-hert?"

He balked at the sudden vocalization, unable to help the flush in his cheeks as the woman stood and he was granted an unhindered view of her severe lack of attire. He tried to focus upon the safe zone of her face that twisted in concentration as she struggled to produce words.

"Hert. 'M-member h-h-h-hert. Don't like. N-no. Hert bad. Don't like," she muttered distractedly, unable to focus upon him as she shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. Strange lowing sounds echoed from her throat as she stumbled backwards, pushing another hand against her forehead.

Lowering his weapons as he deciphered her stunted speech, he approached cautiously, "Nobody likes pain. But I can help you. That's what I do. Here."

Frightened, golden eyes swung towards him as he removed his cape, offering it for use in at least some covering beyond the paint of the elements upon her body. He avoided entering her personal space, forcing her to move towards him and she cautiously inched forward, taking deep sniffs as she gauged his scent. He offered a reassuring smile, keeping his lips closed as he recalled reading somewhere that bared teeth was considered a challenge amongst canines. Her deep gaze studied him suspiciously, still debating whether to trust him or not as she cautiously closed the final few inches.

"Rob, look out!"

Claws ripped through his cape, reaching for his neck but he twisted the garment about, trapping the limb within it before a kick impacted with his chest, sending him crashing into a car parked along the street. Snarling, the savage woman turned to catch the horns of the dark green bull charging her, calloused feet skidding along the asphalt that her claws stabbed into, bringing them both to a halt. Beast Boy immediately switched forms into that of an octopus, his multitude of limbs binding about her own, but the fearsome armaments of her maw sank into one of his tendrils before she reared back, tearing away a portion of his flesh. Before he could rearrange his arms to prevent her from doing so, her teeth had already sunk in again, tearing into the exposed tissue with disquieting fervor as she swallowed the meat. Casting her away, he returned to his human form and pressed hands against the ugly gashes in his arm as she dashed towards him, claws scraping along the road and blood soaked jaws open in anticipation of another taste.

He braced himself for the attack only for a blue beam to slam into her, sending her tumbling down the road and Cyborg kept the blast on her as he stoically advanced. She howled at the sonic pulsations, clutching at her ears, but the tall hero calmly declared, "Booyah. Y'all right, BB?"

"Love bites," he answered through a pained grunt as he pressed at the bleeding. "Looks like she wanted a piece of the lean, green love ma-sheen."

"Can't say much for her tastes, I guess," he mused as he finally released the sonic pulse. She whimpered upon the ground, still clutching at her ears as Cyborg advanced, producing a pair of thick handcuffs from a compartment in his torso. Clamping them about her wrists, he dodged as her feet lashed out at him, their claws nearly taking his remaining eye and managing to draw a line of blood across his cheek. With a scowl, he drew another pair of cuffs and trapped her ankles before throwing her over his shoulder. He was surprised by her strength and struggled to hold her as she writhed about, snapping at him. "Woah! Hey, man, tell your girlfriend to chill."

"You're the one getting all touchy-freely there with her," the changeling responded as they were joined by Robin who was pushing his Communicator back into his belt.

"The police and Starfire are on the way, and Raven is headed to the Tower to the infirmary. Beast Boy, you should head there, too. Can you fly on your own?" he said.

Experimentally, Beast Boy shifted into a falcon and flapped his wings, creating a small storm of bloodied feathers before he nodded through the pain, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure, man?" Cyborg asked as he dodged the snapping jaws of his captive. "You're lookin' worse than you normally do."

"How about you take a page from fangface's book and bite my oh-so-finely-feathered tuchus, tinman?" suggested the shape shifter playfully as he took to the air. Scarlet stained pinions fluttered down in his wake and his flight pattern was shaky, but he rose over the surrounding buildings and soared towards the bay. Cyborg worriedly watched until he was out of sight, staring after his friend even after he was out of sight, and his captive took advantage of his distraction, throwing her legs into the air to put him off-balance before swinging them back down, driving them into his chest with a loud crunch and pushing free from his grip. He grunted as he was thrown from his feet, and she landed nimbly on the ground and snarled at him threateningly. Before she could make any move, whether to attack or flee, her jaw suddenly clenched shut and her body stiffened, twitching slightly as a crackling sound filled the air. After a moment, she dropped to the ground, moaning softly as the taser birdarang in her back used the last of its power.

"Hopefully that will put her out for a while," Robin sighed though he refrained from immediately returning the second birdarang to his utility belt. Cyborg scowled at the dent in his chassis as he grunted and slung the unmoving savage over his shoulder.

"Man, I'm startin' to miss bein' bored. Where are all these new nuts crawlin' from?"

* * *

**Infirmary, Titans Tower. 1210 Hours, 02 AUGUST 2014**

Raven winced as she dabbed at the painful gashes torn across her abdomen with the warm cloth, wiping away the blood that had caked on her skin. Four long lines decorated her toned stomach, no longer bleeding and she was fortunate that the talons had not stabbed deeper. She had discarded the ruined suit and donned grey sweatpants with an indigo, long-sleeved shirt that she had kept pulled up to treat her wound. Disinfectant had been judiciously applied to the scars and she smeared more on one of the pads that she pressed to the scars before using powers to wrap a gauze bandage about her injury.

"Gotta say, Rae, you're probably the hottest mummy girl I've ever seen," Gar smirked as he entered the infirmary.

She didn't bother warning him of the misuse of her name once again and merely flickered a glare up at him as she mused, "I can't imagine that's a large pool to choose from."

"You'd be surprised. The internet is a strange and, at times, utterly terrifying place," he explained as he stared aimlessly into the distance before shuddering. Chuckling to himself, he approached the medicine cabinet and began to rifle through it.

"You're hurt?" she asked.

"Tis only a flesh wound," he said as she took the hand of the arm that he had been clutching. She scowled at the mangled mess that was oozing blood and paid no heed to his pained hiss as she pushed back his sleeve.

"Flesh wound. Right. I'm guessing losing a leg would be a minor inconvenience."

"Of course. I'd just bite his kneecaps off," he beamed.

"I feel like you're making references I don't understand again," she said as she levitated the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a clean cloth into her hand.

"Oh, c'mon! We've watched that movie at least six times. Yow! Jeez, if you're going to use that much, I might as well bathe in it," he criticized as she pressed the soaked rag to his wounds.

"I likely had more important things to do. Such as sleep," she said as she washed away the blood. "And I'd be more than happy if you'd just bathe in water. Preferably with soap. You stink."

"Gee, thanks," he grumbled as he watched her.

Her amethyst gaze was intent upon her work and as a lock of matching hair swung into her vision, she blew it away. The stubborn strands persisted, returning to sway before her eyes and she gave a small, exasperated sigh, one he recognized from many of their previous interactions. Delicate fingers that he desperately wished to capture in his own and never release reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear before she returned to her task. She had spent a lifetime repressing emotions, but they could never truly be banished and Beast Boy had trained himself over the years to spot them. Concern practically painted her features, softening them, but there was a hint of anger at his injuries. His gaze focused upon the small frown it produced in her full lips, and they mesmerized him for a second before he clenched his eyes shut.

"You know, I can take care of that. Steve made sure we could all patch up our own boo-boos," he offered, opening his eyes as he subdued the tempest of emotion that had threatened to overwhelm him. He smirked and quickly made a joke, "Of course, he wasn't a huge fan of the Powerpuff Girls band-aids. But those girls were badass. First cartoon dudettes I ever had a crush on."

Raven froze at his comment, seemingly just now realizing what she had been doing and she cleared her throat as she set the bottle and cloth on the edge of the bed beside them. She stood, giving a slight inclination of her head, "Of course. Go right ahead."

He suspected that she had not listened to his second remark, but any mock indignation fled his mind as she slid by him, her entirely unique scent invading his nose and he held his breath for a moment to savor it. He bit his lip to prevent it from releasing something stupid and decided that he had been more than creepy enough for one day, releasing his breath of her and turning to his wound. Although his sleeve had been rolled up, it still partially covered one of the bites and the material of his suit was too thick to be piled any further. Tossing his gloves on the bed, he slipped his fingers under the hem of the top, hissing again as pain shot through his arm. The shirt was over his head before it became too much and he wheeled to face Raven who was checking her bandages.

"Rae," he whispered, leaning towards her with his arms sticking out and his hands flailing helplessly. "Rae, save me! I'm trapped!"

"What did yo-" she paused as she witnessed his predicament, holding back a laugh. Stepping forward, she grabbed his shirt and pulled it the rest of the way from his body with only a minor struggle. He yelped at the pain in his arm and hopped about for a moment before calming and taking a steadying breath. Raven arched a brow, "Very dignified."

"Hey, I think I have a tooth stuck in my arm," he protested indignantly. "I'm allowed a little bit of undignity."

"Indignity," she corrected automatically.

"And spelling mistakes!"

She rolled her eyes as he continued with the rather tentative application of the antiseptic and her gaze, as she often found it doing when he was without a shirt, slipped to study his surprisingly broad back. He disguised a sturdy, athletic frame beneath the dark suit, and supple muscles that appeared stringy when clothed stretched under his verdant skin. The male physique was nothing new to her, the beach was practically unavoidable with their location, some villains liked to swagger about showing off the muscles they developed in prison, and the Tower had experienced more than one shower mishap that was better left unmentioned, but she had never been permitted such an unobstructed view. There was no movement hindering her observation and she took longer than she should have to admire the sculpt of his shoulders, the flex of sinew beneath his skin. Much of her flushed appreciation vanished when she finally began taking note of the scars that had somehow previously escaped her notice.

The entire team had dozens of past injuries decorating their bodies, the reminders of battles or rescues that had not been as entirely well-coordinated as hoped. Beast Boy's body was a literal tapestry of faded wounds and the more analytical side of her brain quickly lost count. Cuts, burns, the familiar eruption of bullets traced his flesh, overlapping frequently and part of her pondered that he was more scar tissue than anything else. On hesitant steps, she approached the unaware changeling, her hand reaching to trace along an old slash and the memory of pain surged through her, the image of a beast, Adonis, raking his claws along Beast Boy's back. There was such deep anger linked with fear, worry, and disgust, but beneath them there was something else, a fledgling feeling but gaining strength as it matured into . . .

The connection dissipated as he whirled and backed away from her and she blinked, shaken from her stupor as he regarded her with wide-eyes and demanded, "Dude! What was that!?"

"What was what?"

"_That_. You-you did something."

"Garfield, I didn't do -"

"You read my mind. Oh my God, that's it! That's why I've been getting all those-"

"I didn't read your mind," she interjected.

"It definitely felt like it. Trust me. Steve's done it enough times that I kinda know the feeling," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his bared chest. Raven bit her lip though she remained unsure if it was to silence her appreciation of his physique or the reveal of one of the few secrets she was permitted.

"It was - I simply read your emotions," she answered.

"You have empathy."

She blinked and her eyes narrowed as she responded, "Yes. How did you -"

"Rae, I'm a comic book nerd. I probably know the cool-sounding names for more superpowers than you do," he said confidently, and she decided the subject was best left undisputed.

"I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I -"

"Hold up. How long-how long have you had your-your empathy?" he asked, halting her attempt to flee.

"It's been around since I was a child, but after defeating my father, it has grown - stronger," she confessed.

"Your fath- that was nearly two years ago! You've had this-this thing for nearly two years and you didn't tell anybody!?"

His raised voice triggered a primal part of her brain, turning her hostile as she snapped, "I never held back anything that would have helped the team or protected civilians. Why does this trouble you?"

"No, I - it doesn't - I'm not . . ." he rambled, eyes avoiding her gaze before they hardened and fixed upon her. "Well, then why wouldn't you tell us that?!"

"Why don't you tell us that it hurts when you change?" she shot back, her voice low and even but no less intense. Her words caused him to balk and he took a step back, creating a buffer between them as he recovered.

"It - that doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? Garfield, every time you change, much of my willpower is set to blocking out the feeling of your bones splintering and regrowing. Of tearing out of my flesh as a new layer crawls beneath it," she said, delicate brow furrowing.

"Look, my shape shifting only affected me - at least until this bombshell. But this - your empathy - that kind of affects all of us, Rae," he argued.

"Nobody was hurt by my secret. And with everything else about me laid bare, it was nice to have something that was solely mine," she contested before pausing as though listening to something far away. After a moment, she said, "The others have arrived. This is over."

She disappeared into a black portal that manifested upon the floor, leaving the shape shifter to clench his eyes shut and set his palms against the edge of the bed for support. They snapped open a second later, milky white, and he snarled as his claws stabbed into the bed and sheet, slashing through it before he calmed, letting the scraps of fabric drift lazily to the floor. He dropped his head again, balling his hands into fists to pound against the ravaged bed.

"Shit."

* * *

**Oh, boy! Tension!**

**Anyway, we hope you're enjoying this story. In Ira's original design for Carnivore, she was still fully integrated with society but still had a wild streak. Shortly before writing this, he decided it would be more interesting to essentially have her be little more than an animal. A particularly cunning and maybe a little cruel, but still an animal. What do you all think?**

**Please review!**


	7. Negotiations

**We do not own the right to any DC affiliated characters.**

**We do own the rights all unaffiliated characters.**

* * *

**Edwards Freight, Gotham City Headquarters. 1435 Hours, 07 AUGUST 2014**

The man admired himself in the glass doors of the tall building, adjusting the dark suit fitted for his powerful shoulders. He smoothed back black hair, met the mirrored gaze of crystal blue, and nodded before entering the towering structure of Edwards Freight. The entry hall felt deserted, empty save for a single desk worker who battled sleep with, judging by the periodic clicks of the mouse, a game of solitaire. His gaze did not leave the screen as the well-built man approached, and he spoke as though to hear him do so was a privilege.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope so. I have a meeting with Ms. Edwards," he smiled, the expression open and friendly.

"ID," he asked, holding out a hand, still focused upon his monitor. Drawing his wallet, the dark-haired man provided the self-important employee with one of the slim cards and the worker disinterestedly brought up a schedule that he peered at before glancing at the card in his hand. He suddenly froze and his eyes grew until they almost seemed to be bulging from the sockets as the dark-haired man smirked, hands in his pockets.

"You're - I didn't - I mean - Mr. Wayne! Welcome to Edwards Freight! Please go ahead up. Top floor. I'll let Miss Edwards know that you're on the way up," he gushed as he returned the card, cheeks blazing red.

Bruce Wayne held back a chuckle as he nodded his gratitude and strode around the high desk into the short hall where he pressed a button, summoning an elevator. His wait was short and the door dinged as it slid open to permit him entrance. He stepped in, whistling along with the muzak as he pressed one of the buttons and rode upward, noting the camera in the corner that he beamed at and offered a small wave. When he finally arrived at his destination, the door chimed again as it retracted to permit him entry into a large office with a windowed wall facing towards the harbor.

The floor was black marble flecked with grey and white, mixing together to resemble some great tempest, and it was polished to a mirror-like sheen. Stands were positioned periodically about the spacious room and bottles containing carefully crafted vessels were set on proud display. Bruce admired their artistry as he passed, striding towards the lone desk that squatted in the center of the cold room. Another ship in a bottle sat upon it, but the frigate within was incomplete, one of its masts was still waiting to be raised and its prow was absent. Behind the desk were a pair of women, one a tanned blonde, which was gathered into a bun, seated in the high-backed chair as she reviewed a document and the second a short-haired, freckled brunette with harsh features and a slouching, lanky frame.

As Bruce approached, the latter leaned down like a giraffe stooping to drink and whispered something in the ear of the blonde woman who lifted her brown eyes and offered a weary smile. She stood and he quickly studied her, noting the curves that filled the dark suit she wore, vertical stripes of white interrupting the obsidian. The rich violet of the shirt beneath it added a carefully coordinated splash of color to her outfit and allowed a tasteful view of her cleavage. Her features were somewhat coarse, a roughness to them that he couldn't entirely pinpoint the source of, and silvery anchors dangled from her ears. She extended a hand with pearly white nails as he stepped up to the desk and he quickly stifled his surprise at the strength in the grip.

"Mr. Wayne," Brianna Edwards said, her accent polished amongst those of the British gentry. Her smile was broad and shark-like. "Our meeting has been far too long in the making."

"Trust me, Miss Edwards, it would have been much sooner had I known you were so beautiful," he returned, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he kept his gaze fixed with her own. After he released her hand, she gestured for him to take one of the chairs on his side of the desk as she sank back into her own. She lifted a hand towards the gawky woman rising over both of them.

"This is Miss Blackwood. She's something of the first mate around here," she explained and Bruce's charming smile was returned with a curt nod. Clasping her hands together, the blonde turned back to the infamous bachelor and said, "Now, Mr. Wayne -"

"Please, call me Bruce."

She nodded, "Very well. Bruce. I suspect you didn't come all the way out here only ta pay a social call - no matter how pretty I am."

"I'm afraid not," he admitted. "I understand you recently lost a ship after a battle between the Teen Titans and some villain."

"Your newspapers called him 'Kraken,' I believe."

"Yes. Now, I hear you have begun to look for recompense for the loss of your vessel, and I would like to help you with that."

"Circling the drain we may be, Bruce, but we still have plenty of lawyers ta handle our -"

He held up a hand to stop her and reached for an interior pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a small slip of paper that he stood to pass to blonde woman. She regarded the check, her eyes giving nothing away as she passed it to Miss Blackwood who clearly did not have the same practice in schooling her features. Her eyes widened and she managed to catch her jaw before it dropped, her gaze hardening after a second as she returned the check to her employer who set it on the desk. Still giving nothing away, she asked, "I presume this is ta cover the damages?"

"And then some," he smiled. "These kids are trying to do the right thing, but they're still kids. They don't fully grasp the concept of 'property damage' yet."

Her gaze was focused upon the parade of zeros, hands clasped together and hiding her mouth as she considered it before one of her hands landed upon it and slid it back towards Bruce who frowned. Before he could protest her refusal, she said, "Money's a simple thing. This company's been in the family for generations, and I imagine you know the trouble we've been facing as of late. I'm not looking ta be the final chapter in the family's legacy. If you're open ta it, I'd like ta make a counter offer."

"Of what?" he asked cautiously.

There was that smile again, and as before it seemed more befitting of the oceans' top predators.

"Sign a contract with us. All of Wayne Enterprises shipments by sea go through us. Not for free, but we can let the busybodies 'ash out the details, yeah? You help breathe some much needed life inta the business, and maybe we'll limp far enough along for me ta hand off the baton ta the next poor sap."

His eyes narrowed, "Miss Edwards, you understand that Wayne Enterprises is controlled by a board. I cannot simply -"

"I trust you see the ships, Bruce," she nodded to the collection about the room. "They're me grand-da's. He taught me da, and me da tried ta teach me. You ever put together a ship in a bottle?"

"I cannot say I have."

"It takes patience. A steady hand that has the right touch of delicacy and a keen eye. That's not in me. I don't have their patience. But, what I do have, is stubbornness. I don't much care if I only get half of your offer. I don't care if I only get a quarter. I'll take my pound of flesh from your darling little Titans."

She leaned forward slightly and continued, "Trust me, I'm the most bull-headed, vindictive, foolhardy, stubborn lass you'll ever meet on this side of the pond. So unless you want me to drag those kids through so many courts that they start ta forget what sunlight feels like, I suggest you put that legendary Wayne charm ta use and get me that contract."

Any friendliness had since disappeared from Bruce's countenance and he stared at her coldly before standing and collecting the rejected check. He slipped it back into his pocket and nodded to her, "I'll see what I can do."

She beamed up at him, "That's all I ask."

He strode back towards the elevator, his pace stately and his shoulders square as he jammed a finger against the button. The doors opened immediately and he stepped through only to be stopped by the call of his name.

"Oh, Bruce!"

He glanced towards the grinning blonde who assured him, "Please understand that this was nothing personal. I've got a sense that you and I are going ta have a beautiful friendship."

Giving a smile that he hoped wasn't as evidently insincere as it felt, he nodded, "I'm sure you're right."

Bruce's humor had vanished during his elevator ride, and the secretary wisely kept his head down as the dark-haired man passed, powerful legs seeming to devour the earth beneath him to deliver him to the obsidian car that awaited him outside. As he grunted and loosened his tie after sliding into the backseat, it pulled away from the curb and Alfred Pennyworth asked, "Did everything go as planned, sir?"

"Brianna Edwards wants Wayne Enterprises to come to her for shipping. That'll give me a chance to track exactly where her ships are going," he answered as he pressed a button and files were projected in arcing blue light before him. He studied the reports of vessel manifests, the voyage plans they had submitted, and the investigations into the missing cargo that seemed to plague the ships. Brianna had inherited a sinking company from the untimely demise of her father and she had spent her entire tenure as its head trying to keep it above water. He was beginning to suspect that she had found a way - albeit, not an entirely legitimate one.

"Are you going to call young master Grayson to keep him informed of the situation?"

The question interrupted his careful analysis of the evidence and he struggled with an answer before saying, "I'll send him the casefile."

"Anything to avoid actually talking then, sir?"

"He has no interest in talking, Alfred," he grumbled.

"Of course not," noted the elder man evenly. "He takes after his father."

* * *

**The Arnetti Estate, New York. 1034 Hours, 07 JUNE 2014**

The Arnetti Estate was a sprawling demesne that's closest neighbor's separation could be measured in kilometers. It had been erected decades ago when Carla Arnetti had left her home of Italy for the United States when sordid accusations arose about the untimely death of her husband and the hand she may have played in it. Nothing had ever been proven but she grew weary of the side glances and used the substantial fortune that had been left to her to purchase the land and build the grand mansion. A gravel path wound through its gentle hills, reaching from the road to a broad circle in front of the sprawling structure. Set in its grassy center was an extravagant marble fountain decorated with cherubs and other classical features, painstakingly kept clean. Trees dotted the verdant, manicured lawns and grew thicker along the land's boundaries.

It was upon the border of one such grove that a young Alondra Arnetti cautiously peered from behind a tree, attired in an indigo shirt with sleeves that ended at her pale shoulders and denim shorts. Once assured that she had escaped the gazes of any witnesses, she kicked off her sandals and lunged towards the lowest branch of the towering tree. With a grunt, she pulled herself onto it, rising to her feet and reaching for the next one. She clambered upward with practiced expertise and was well over halfway up when a shrill cry interrupted her and her foot slipped though she managed to catch herself. Grumbling under breath, she crouched upon one of the sturdier branches, one hand braced against another of the tree's limbs, as the shout rang out again.

"Alondraaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Blowing away a tuft of short hair that had descended in front of her eyes, she hollered, "_Que?_"

"You're cheating!"

The accusation rang out from Joseph Arnetti, the third-born of the Arnetti brood, who stood at the base of the tree, glaring upwards towards where he suspected his eldest sister was. Gel lifted his dark, thick hair into a crest, like a shark fin, and he stalked about the tree impatiently. At his side was Gina Arnetti, the second-born, who clutched and twisted her dress anxiously in her dark hands as she scanned the eaves for the pale girl. She was a chubby girl, of darker tone than her brother, and her hair fell in mahogany curls.

Rolling her eyes at the familiar complaint, she blew a lock out of her field of vision and replied, "The rules were that we could go anywhere but in the forest. I'm not in the forest. I'm in a tree."

"It's the same thing!" he wailed.

"No, it's not. I'm in one tree. That's not even close to a forest, _idiota_."

"I'm not stupid, you cheater!"

"Remember what _nonna _said," she called. "'_Meglio un imbroglione di un perdente.'_"

"If you don't come down, you can't play!"

"All right," she shrugged and automatically blew away the hair that descended in front of her eye. "But I'm not coming down unless you tag me. So, have fun playing with two people."

Joey's eyes narrowed in rage as he finally came to a halt before his vision flashed to his earthbound sister and he demanded, "Gimme a boost."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she protested softly. "I-I mean, you could fall and get hurt."

He shot her a look of disgust that she glanced away from before shouting up the tree again, "I'm gonna go get dad!"

With a nod, Alondra straightened and resumed her climb as she shouted over her shoulder, "You go do that, crybaby. I'll be at the top before you even get to the house."

He hurled insults at her before turning and charging towards the mansion, leaving Gina to worriedly search the branches for Alondra, but only ever finding rustling leaves and creaking branches. Circling about the trunk in her nimble ascent, the pale girl paused as her grip landed upon a soft branch that began to bow at her touch. Retracting her hand, she skirted about the rotten branch, finding a new one to support her as she continued skyward. The branches began to thin and she was greeted with a gentle breeze that she paused to lean into, letting it ruffle her hair and shirt before she clambered onto the final branches that were stout enough to hold her.

Perching upon the last branch she could reach, she hung her legs over it and gazed upon the expanse of her home and beyond. At the house, the speck that was Joey raced up the steps of the sprawling back porch and charged towards the unmistakeable bulk of Carlo Arnetti, the family patriarch who bounced about the porch with a small bundle in his arms. He paused as the boy dashed up to him and Alondra rolled her eyes as a lock fell before her eyes once again. She brushed it out of the way this time as her father strolled to the round table, shadowed by an umbrella, and passed the child in his hands to her mother, Marcia, who already held the other twin in her lap.

Her observation of her family was interrupted by a soft chirping and she glanced up to see a nest in the branches overhead. Placing her hand against the trunk, she stood up and tried to peer into the tangled confines only to find that she was too short. Scowling, she scanned the nearby branches and after securing a hold on a light branch, she reached her foot across, placing it at the base of another limb. Leaning forward, she discovered that she was still not high enough to look into the nest and she licked her lips before releasing a breath to push the hair from her vision as she considered the tree. Looping her hand about the thinning trunk, she braced her foot against the other side of it and lifted herself until she could gaze into the nest.

She beamed at the trio of eggs tended to by a plump mother who rearranged her abode before dropping onto them once again. The young girl watched with growing wonderment as the hen fussed with the arrangements of her domicile before noticing her uninvited guest. A squawk erupted from her and she spread her wings as the slender girl blinked, pulling back as the protective avian leapt at her. Her foot slipped and the sudden weight upon her arm caused her hand to follow suit.

Her collision with the first branch pushed the air from her lungs and caused her to twist so that the next caught her in the stomach. The branch snapped under her weight and its jagged point stabbed into her hip, tracing upward and ripping her shirt as gravity carried her further downward. Anytime her descent began to pick up speed, she was slowed by the impact of another branch. In the back of her head, she could hear Gina screaming, alternately screaming her name or for their father, but her vision had gone dark, interrupted by brief, blurry flashes of light. Blood was flowing from the gash that stretched from her hip to the opposite rib and it splattered against the tree. Finally, she came to rest upon the ground, crumple on the grass with her limbs strung listlessly about her.

Her chest rose and fell with fluttery breaths as blood seeped from her wound, soaking her shirt and the ground about her. Pain flooded her body, consuming all her senses until she could not hear the desperate cries of her father or the pounding of his feet as he raced up to her.

"Hey, boss babe."

The voice stirred her from her memory and she opened tired eyes to find Cash looming over her, the blue of his gaze seeming to glow in the darkness. She dozed upon an extravagant bed, clad only in her undergarment and careful even in her nap not to disturb her carefully arranged hair. With a sigh, she sat up, absentmindedly tracing the long scar that traveled along her toned belly as she glanced to the clock.

"It's getting late," she noted dryly.

"Your habitué have commenced arrival," Cash announced, presenting her with the crimson dress that she had selected for the night's event. Standing up, she pulled it on, smoothing out its few wrinkles as she presented her back to him and he obediently pulled up the zipper as she fussed with her, ensuring that it was in place.

"And the _divertimento?_"

"The aggregation is in proper regulation. Predominantly."

"Then see to it that everything is taken care of, Cashy," she instructed as she strolled to the window of the room, moving the heavy curtain to gaze down upon the distant streets below. "I want nothing to go wrong."

* * *

**The Grand Murakami Hotel, Jump City. 2024 Hours, ****07 AUGUST 2014**

The recently dethroned criminal kingpins of Jump City gathered within the dim lobby of a recently reopened hotel, eyeing each other suspiciously while remaining ignorant of the rich history of their extravagant surroundings. Decades ago, years before the advent of the Second World War, it had been raised by a descendant of one of the city's founders and stood stalwart through the war as its builder languished in an internment camp. When he had returned after the war, he had tried to restore the hotel, but, in time, the price of its maintenance outweighed its profit, and it had been shut down. For years, it was left untended, ravaged by the effects of time, but when members of the city had sought to tear it down, it had been protected by a statute concerning historical preservation. Abandoned to molder, it was left to watch the rest of the world modernize while it lingered, a memory of an age long since passed. Homeless and destitute citizens had eagerly infested the rundown halls and abandoned rooms, but they had been chased from it when it suddenly found its way into new ownership.

Refuse had been cleared away, walls repainted, and lights set to blaze anew though the process of revitalization was far from complete. Contractors and workers scurried about, bellowing orders and occasionally colliding with following debates that almost broke into altercations before a mediator stepped in and set the divided groups back on their proper path. Amongst the chaos, the kingpins marveled at the ornate fixtures and the Renaissance-era styled painting on the ceiling that had been painstakingly restored. Even in its unfinished state, the hotel seemed to glimmer and swell with pride at its restoration, ignorant of the horrors that were due to be enacted inside it.

The collective awe of the visitors was broken by the crude visage of the Vulture's constant shadow jutting into their vision, wool cap still covering the top of his head.

"Convey yourselves to the annex of terpsichorean celebrations," Cash instructed tersely before lumbering away.

"Wait, where?" one of the men shouted after him as he shoved through a pair of bickering electricians to advance up the stairs.

"The ballroom," said a woman in an immaculate white suit.

She drifted towards the labelled double doors, accompanied by her guards and their counterparts followed after a moment. The heavy oak doors opened into a spacious room with a vaunted ceiling and and dazzling chandeliers covered in crystal. Set upon the floor were long tables, organized into a blocky 'U' shape and laden with dishes, silverware, and all the other necessities to host a meal. Wine bottles chilled in polished buckets of ice and chairs were arranged in front of the place settings, enough room for the crime lords and the entourage each had brought. At the head of the tables was the demurely smiling Vulture, hair carefully tousled and left to cascade to her slender shoulders. Gracing her lithe figure was a shimmering dress of scarlet and a russet fur collar was wrapped about her neck.

At her side was a dark-skinned man in an immaculate suit who shifted his weight onto the sturdy cane clasped in one of his hands. He regarded the entering crowd with a superior smirk, equipped with some piece of knowledge they were not and eternally smug about it. On the Vulture's other side was a short, athletic woman who stood rigid, like some soldier awaiting her orders. Her flaxen blonde hair was gathered into a tight bun and her compact, burly figure was draped in a soft white dress that looped about her neck and left much of her back revealed. The trained eye recognized the quail of disquiet upon her strong-boned features, less than pleased with her current situation.

As they drew closer, the Vulture opened her arms as though trying to envelope them in a hug as her rich voice rang across the room, "_Buona sera, signore e signori!_ Come, join us. I figured it time we need celebrate to the success of our association. Please, take your seats."

Her two companions immediately complied with her instructions but the guests hesitated, exchanging suspicious glances and eyeing the seats apprehensively. The Vulture's humor evaporated and she rolled her eyes, "Oh, drat. They realized I planted bombs under all their seats. Now what am I going to have to come up with?"

A wary murmur rippled through the gang leaders and they began filtering to their seats, reigniting the smile upon their host's face. She remained standing and the doors opened to permit a stream of smartly dressed waiters carrying trays laden with bowls of salad. Lush vegetables that looked as though they had been plucked directly from the garden were set before the mob bosses and their accompanying personnel. Forks jabbed tentatively at the dark green leaves and shiny cherry tomatoes as though expecting a muzzle to poke out through them and the Vulture encouraged them, "Go on, eat up. Let me know what you think when we get to the main course. It's our chef's trial run and it's not entirely a joke when I say that he's on the chopping block."

After placing the salad, several of the waiters had lingered to open the bottles of wine and pour for their visitors. Once all the glasses had been filled, Vulture cleared her throat and raised her wine flute into the air as she declared, "_Per un buon affare e nemici sepolti._ To good business."

There was a half-hearted murmur of agreement before they all drank, their host downing over half her glass in a single, practiced gulp. Lowering it with a pleased sigh, she observed the crowd before speaking again, projecting enough to be heard by all of them.

"I understand your reluctance to work for me. You fought for this town, tooth and nail, and then I roll in, a newcomer, _un forastero_, and act like I own everything. Hopefully, we can come to an understanding over tonight's meal, and I thought maybe if you knew me, that would be easier."

"My papa is mafia and my _madre_ runs drug cartels from South America. As the eldest of five, I had always assumed I would one day inherit the joint thrones of my parents. However, in my second year of medical college, I realized that something had changed. I no longer simply wanted an organization passed to me. I did not want to simply be another name in our long and sordid history," she explained, making eye contact with those at least pretending to listen while the others chewed loudly.

"I had just finished my third year when I dropped out and had the remainder of my college fund transferred into my personal account. I moved to a city my papa didn't own and started setting up business. I found a gang - the Butcher Boys - and I convinced them to work for me. We were small and we struggled to stay afloat - but, then, I found our niche. _El lugar al que pertenecìamos_. And soon business was booming. I was becoming a very rich woman, and I put that wealth into expanding operations. Maybe a _poco_ aggressively."

Savory scents clouded the air as the waiters returned, laden with new plates that carried the sizzling entrees that they presented with great flourish to the crime bosses. Surprise flitted across their faces, followed closely by suspicion and concern as many found themselves presented with their favorite meals. The Vulture noted their distrustful stares, watched the whispered exchanges, and her predatory smile widened as she continued with her story.

"I made the men and women running the rackets the same offer I made you. Naturally, they refused. For a little while, _almeno_. They put up valiant but ultimately futile effort. Eventually, I was running every operation within my city, and all those who had sided with me profited handsomely. Unfortunately, it was not enough to sate my appetite and I was forced to look elsewhere. Which led me to your _bella citti_."

She was interrupted by the opening of the doors once again and Cash entered this time, wheeling a steel gurney into the room. He scowled as he stomped forward, the plastic coolers stringed together over his shoulder clattering together with every heavy step. As he drew closer, it became apparent that there was a man set in the gurney, divested of clothing with damp skin. His ghastly pallor was accompanied by darkened extremities suggesting storage in a frigid environment. Pushing the corpse into the absence between the tables, Cash dropped the coolers and stormed to take his place behind Vulture who beamed and held a hand towards the dead man.

"Ah, _eccellente._ For your viewing pleasure, we have put together a little show for you. A demonstration, if you will, of my business methods."

"Who the hell is this?" demanded a heavyset man.

"I don't know," Vulture shrugged as the dark man at her side reached under his chair, hands searching for something that had been tucked there earlier. "One of the cleaner _tontos_ that missed the eviction notice when I purchased this hotel. We kept him on ice for this performance, but the rest have been dealt with already. Dr. Sanders, if you would."

The smirking man stood, leaving his cane leaning against the table for a minute as he donned a plastic apron and rubber gloves. Picking up his cane, he hobbled around the table on stuttering footsteps, carrying a thick, black bundle of canvas under his free arm. Taking his place alongside the gurney, he dumped the bag beside the man and pulled out a tray that was tucked under the table. Pushing his parcel atop it, he untied its straps and unfurled it, revealing immaculately gleaming surgical tools.

His leering grin grew as he slid a scalpel from a pocket with cradled it with blatant familiarity. He made quick, clean incisions along the inside of the man's thighs, and blood oozed from the opened femoral arteries as he made more slices to speed along the process. The crimson humor slid along the almost imperceptible incline in the tray of the table into a drain set into it, collecting in a clear plastic tub in the bottom of the gurney.

As he waited for his specimen to finish draining, he glanced over him and almost sighed at his miserable condition, prevalent amongst others in his station. It would be a challenge to find anything salvageable, but he suspected that was the Vulture's intent. She wanted him to prove, once again, that his injured leg did not mean he could not carry his own weight. He almost scoffed at the idea before remembering where he was and he quickly glanced about, ensuring that all eyes were upon him as the blood slowed to a sleep. Setting the cane aside, he leaned over his specimen and made a well-practiced Y-cut into his chest, slicing through the stringy muscles. He peeled aside the flaps and looked upward again, gauging his audience and their reactions.

Revulsion crossed the majority of their faces, and those with weaker stomachs struggled to keep down the lavish meal they had readily devoured. Some demonstrated greater restraint, their mouths flat aside from the occasional twitch, and their eyes gave nothing away, but he could feel their tension. He shifted his gaze towards Ms. Krahen, the leader of the Vulture's _Carogne Uccelli_, and he smirked at the mask of indifference that she had donned in place of her typical beaked hood. Hovering behind her and the Vulture, Cash busied himself with studying the other men and women about the table, not bothering to hide his suspicious and measuring glare. Finally, he turned to look upon his employer who watched with avid interest, undeterred in her enjoyment of the slightly raw steak that had been cooked to her specifications.

The torso was open now and Dr. Sanders kneeled down to pull out the bolt cutters lying along the bottom. As he rose, he noted the blanching of several faces at his wielding of them and suppressed a grin, remaining professional. Near universal flinches passed through the observers as the ribs cracked and splintered under the pressure of the tool. He grunted as he squeezed the handles, cutting away the ribcage and removing it to permit access to the inert organs. Setting aside the heavy bolt cutters, he picked up his blade once again and began making swift, efficient slices, artistry in his strokes. As he freed an organ from its tethering to the remainder of the innards, he opened one of the coolers and set the organ amongst the ice before closing it again.

With the completion of her meal and the first organ removed, the Vulture picked up a commentary, "These organs will be kept in a refrigerated environment to preserve them, and then retrieved when a _cliente_ needs a new heart, liver, whatever they want and can't wait for. Of course, we have already checked them for disease and we culled this particular subject with toxic gas and permitted time for the _veleno_ break down."

"And this . . . _business _is how you made your money?" asked the dark-haired woman who had led her peers into the ballroom. She had managed to tear her gaze from the gruesome spectacle that hypnotized her like a train wreck or some other guilty horror disguised as something worthy of fascination.

"No," she admitted, lifting her glass and taking a sip as she leaned back in her chair. "I started in money lending. However, I quickly realized that while breaking _huesos _was certainly entertaining, it was taking too long. I had an idea, but I lacked the skill to carry it out. So, I found our dear Dr. Sanders here, recently dismissed, and recruited him to help me. It was a rough start, but we managed to get off the ground."

"Your idea was to start hacking people open, take out their guts and shit, and _sell it_?" one of the guests asked, clearly aghast. He was a harried, whip-thin man who looked ready to leap from his chair until the plump woman next to him laid a hand upon his lap and narrowed her gaze at the Vulture.

She shrugged and smirked in response. "What can I say? Health always was my favorite class."

Cash snorted behind her, the sound a rough approximation of a laugh, and his boss refrained from casting a well-deserved glare at him. She continued, "I was inspired by a movie I watched in college in addition with my studies. It has proven to be highly profitable, and I now offer you the chance to join in that profit. Of course, I demand tribute, but if you pay it, I can promise that even with my cut, you will all be making more than ever before. However, if you stand against me, well . . ."

Lifting her glass to her ruby painted lips, her gaze slid to the performance as Dr. Sanders dropped the heart of his subject into a cooler and closed it.

"I suppose a verbal threat would be simply overstating it by this point, no?" she smiled before the dark glint in her eyes disappeared and her visage became less menacing as she held up her empty glass. Despite his scowl, Cash obligingly refilled it as Dr. Sanders pulled out a kidney and their employer beamed, "Now, who's ready for dessert?"

* * *

**B Block, JCP. 2117 Hours, ****07 AUGUST 2014**

". . ._ Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel . . . Their hooves were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel . . ._"

Arson bobbed his foot in time to his off-key singing as he reclined upon his bunk, a smoldering cigarette from jutting between his lips. The bill cap that he had swiped off a guard was pulled low on his head, covering his eyes, and he interlaced his fingers behind his skull. Overhead, Rubio's legs dangled over the edge of his cot as the younger man leaned back against the wall, scribbling furiously on a notepad that he had been provided with. He would regularly pause, reviewing what he wrote before his face scrunched up and he shook his head, crossing out his words with dark lines. Silence reigned in the block as lights-out neared and many of the inhabitants had already crawled under their blankets where they patiently awaited for sleep to claim them.

As though designed to thwart that, the doors clanged open and a clamor of voices spilled into their block, frustrated shouts and grunts accompanied by low snarling. Pausing in his singing, Arson pressed a finger to the bill of his hat, lifting it out of his field of vision as the voices drew nearer. He could see other men, rising from their bunks and moving to press against the bars of their cells to afford a better view, watching the source of the tumult with interest. Catcalls began to ring from them, further piquing the burnt man's interest though he still refused to leave the dubious comfort of his bed as a pair of guards finally edged into his view. They were dragging, trying to as least, a person between them who resisted the burly figures, growling and snapping at them.

"Jesus. We should be handing this bitch over to animal control," grumbled one of the guards.

"No such luck," responded the other. "Already talked to the boss about that."

"Well, at least they found a way to trim her claws. Did you see what she did to Ly-whoa!"

Their captive suddenly jerked back, tearing free from one of them and the smoker was presented with the sight of a short woman clad in a grey jumpsuit of the metahuman prisoners. Brown hair was shortened into a boyish cut, revealing golden eyes filled with an animalistic fury. Her skin, washed clean of the dirt and grime that had once covered it, was a soft brown tone with numerous scars, bites and scratches, some of which were more faded than the others. Strapped to her face was a leather muzzle and metal gauntlets were clamped about her forearms, covering her hands. The guard who had lost his grip grabbed at her only for her to nimbly leap into the air, landing upon his shoulders before springing away and tearing free from the other's grasp. Spinning about, she smashed her gauntlets against his head and he sagged and collapsed against the rail of the balcony as she leapt onto the shoulders of his partner, locking his legs in a choke about his neck.

Riotous cheering poured from her audience as the guard tried to slam her into the wall to dislodge her but she accepted the blows stoically, only tightening her grip before the man weakened and fell to his knees. As his vision began to fade, he tried to reach for his radio to send a warning but fell into the blackness before he could do anything more than touch it. He slumped to the ground and his assailant slithered off of him and remained kneeling beside him, growling softly.

"Ah tell yah, the way boys treat girls nowadays. It'd break mah ma's heart, if it was still beatin'."

Her gaze jumped towards the orange-eyed man crouching behind the bars and she bared her teeth at him, nose wrinkling at the smoke that curled from his cigarette. Noticing this, he plucked it from his mouth and extinguished it on the shoe of the fallen guard and then cast it over the edge of the balcony. She watched its descent as Rubio joined his cellmate on the floor, staring at the intruder with wide eyes.

"Whoa. Check out Hanni-babe here."

"Hanni-babe?" Arson asked incredulously, looking up towards the youth who shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I mean, she's got that whole mask thing, plus she's a total -"

"Right, right. Ah got it. Ah was just amazed at the stupidity," he said before looking to the woman and tugging on the bill of his cap. "Sorry 'bout the boy, ma'am. He's just a young punk."

"Hey!"

Ignoring his friend's indignation, Arson extended a hand from the cage, offering it to the woman who eyed it warily before she slowly leaned forward, sniffing at his weathered palm. When she was several inches away, he shoved into the metal bars, extending his arm to close the distance and hook a finger in her mask. With a grunt, he leaned back and pulled her next to the door and she thrashed about savagely, eyes blazing again and he grumbled unintelligently as he tried to maintain his hold.

"Don't just stand there gawkin', Rube!" he bellowed. "Help me out here!"

Shocked into action, the youth leapt forward and reached a hand to grab gather the cloth of her jumpsuit in his hand, struggling to pull it in as he was surprised by her strength. Whooping suggestions rained from all about the block, accompanied by desperate promises if they passed off the woman to them and Arson scowled at them as he finally managed to get a hand on the back of her head.

"C'mon, lil' lady," he spat through gritted teeth. "Don't make this difficult for me. Ah ain't tryin' to hurt yah. Just gimme a lil' - there! Let 'er go! Git off!"

He tore Rubio off, jumping across the room as the muzzle on the woman came loose and fell away and she paused to regard the fallen restraint in wonderment. Then, a fanged smile unfurled across her face and she straightened before leaping atop the railing and unleashing a reverberating howl that silenced the calls ringing from the cells and the men took cautious steps backwards. After her thunderous demonstration, she leapt down into the bottom floor of the block as the doors clanged open and boots clattered against the floor.

"Whoa, there. Not so fast," Arson grumbled as he pitched forward. Shoving his arm through the bars, he strained and slipped his finger into the unconscious guard's pocket, fishing in it before pushing back, clutching his hands together. "Hehee . . . Got it."

"The keys?" Rubio asked excitedly.

"Ke-What?" he looked at him in confusion. "Nah, man. Ah was startin' to run low. Needed a refill."

He gave a lopsided grin and proudly showed off the mostly full box of cigarettes he had swiped from the unconscious guard and Rubio scowled as Arson chuckled and pulled a cigarette from the pack before slipping it in the folds of his sleeve. Below them, men's screams mingled with the howls and snarls of the carnivore, and the orange-eyed man hummed in tune to the carnage as he slid back onto his bunk and placed the cigarette between his lips.

* * *

**Whoo! Another chapter! So, no action in this chapter and lots of exposition, but we hope that you all enjoyed it, and we promise that there will be action next chapter. Also, we learn the Vulture's mainstay in business! And how she got that name. Hope that you all enjoyed it as well as Arson's appearance at the end there.**

**You do have to wonder, do worlds with superheroes have some special kind of insurance for their fights? Because that is a _lot_ of property damage.**

**Please review!**


	8. Fear and Terror

**We do not own the rights to any DC affiliated characters.**

**We do own the rights to all unaffiliated characters.**

* * *

**Leighville, VA. 1408 Hours, 16 July 2008**

"You need to focus, Alyx."

"And what, exactly, do you think I'm doing?" retorted the young girl, verdant eyes looking up through stray tangles of dark bangs.

"Alyx, watch your tone," her mother ordered though she flinched and looked away when the child's glare snapped towards her. The girl bit her lip and focused on the plain cube of wood that had been set on the table in front of her, refusing to acknowledge the feeling of regret that coiled in her gut. In the leather crouch across from her was the specialist her mother had hired who observed her stoically from behind his wire-framed spectacles, golden pen poised over his notepad, ready to unleash a rapid fire scrawl at the slightest development.

"Visualize it, Alyx," he advised. "Focus on the box and now imagine all of it flowing into it. Then, once it's all in there, put a lock on it. Close it tight. Tie it down. Secure it."

"I'm. Trying," she snarled and the man shifted in his seat uneasily. Focusing on the box, she drew in a shaky breath, lifting her thin shoulders with her inhale that drooped as she released it. Her brow furrowed deeper as continued her steady breathing though they were becoming shorter, more ragged before she released an enraged shout and knocked the cube off the table, sending it crashing into the wall.

"This is impossible!" she ranted as she pressed her palms to her forehead. "How-How am I supposed to - it-it - I can't just -"

"Calm down, Alyx. You need to get control of yoursel-"

"I AM IN CONTROL!" she thundered at the increasingly nervous man who shuddered at her roar before clamping his eyes shut. In the other seat, her mom whimpered in terror, ducking her head and drawing her legs into her body and Alyx's rage evaporated. Her breathing eased and she took a step forward, reaching towards the prim woman, "Mama . . ."

Her hand was smacked away with a strangled yelp and she met a wild gaze filled with fear, nostrils flaring as she pressed back into the seat. She dropped her hand as her eyes began to burn, tears threatening to fall from them as her mother came back to her senses and regret flooded her features. Scooting forward, she extended a hand towards her daughter, an apology on her lips, but Alyx bolted, bounding over the back of the couch and charging the door, throwing it open to slam it behind her. Standing up to go after her, she was stopped by a hand catching her wrist.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Madan, but I -"

"It's Ms. Chen now," she corrected automatically.

"Yes. Of course. Forgive me. I think it best that, for now, you give your daughter some space."

"She -"

"She's young. Control will come with time. I promise."

As her mother conversed with the silver-haired man, her young daughter huddled on a bench in the desolate hall, arms wrapped about her legs as she hugged them to her chest. Tears brimmed in her eyes before she clenched her lids shut in an attempt to dash them. She sniffled, lifting her face from where it nestled against her legs to drag her hand under her nose and then sink back into her cramped position. Her gaze fell upon the wall and she stared at it with an intensity that seemed ready to burrow holes into the cinderblocks painted a soft yellow. Focused upon the innocent wall, she did not notice the second presence that joined her upon the bench until he spoke.

"Hey. What're you doing out here?"

Her eyes snapped towards a small boy whose limbs looked as though they had been stretched upon a rack, gangly and elongated, particularly in comparison to his short torso. He crouched on the bench, a bald chimpanzee in a red shirt and tan cargo pants, and regarded her with mismatched eyes, tilting his head curiously. In no mood for company, she glowered at him before swiveling forward again and mumbling.

"None of your business."

"Oh . . . What's your name? I'm Henry."

"Bite me."

"That's a funny name."

Dropping her legs, she turned towards him and roared, "Leave. Me. ALONE!"

He pressed down against the bench, cowering below her, and then simply blinked and noted, "Wow. You're really grumpy. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? How do they know which side is the wrong side of the bed?"

She frowned as she leaned back, "You're not . . . scared?"

"Sure I am," he chirped before lifting up his fingers and enumerating them. "Of clowns, spiders, hot air balloons, caribou, tur-"

"No," she retorted. "I meant, you . . . you're not scared of me?

"Ummm . . . should I be?"

"Everybody else is," she grumbled.

"Why?"

"'Cause they're dumb."

"Oh . . . Who's they?"

She glanced towards him, frowning slightly and noted, "You're kinda dumb, too."

"I talk just fine. Most of the time," he said, breaking into a warbling cackle. Alyx's lips began to twitch and she shook her head at his strange laugh, releasing a small laugh, a crack in her anger, as he suddenly lost balance and tumbled from the bench. He sprawled across the floor and rolled onto his back, limbs splayed out upon the linoleum that he began to scoot along, looking up at her.

"What are you doing down there?" she demanded.

"Getting new perspective."

"On what?"

"Doohickeys. Thingamajigs. Whatchamacallits."

"Descriptive."

"Yeppers! Ms. Ginaldi always says - arrghh!"

Alyx started as Henry clutched at his head, curling into a fetal position as his thin fingers fisted in his wispy hair. Other cries echoed from behind closed doors, but she was focused on the lanky child who writhed upon the floor and she knelt at his side, hands hovering frightfully over his frame, unsure of what to do. His eyes snapped open, seeming to bulge out of his head as he released another wail that jolted her into action and she lifted her head and screamed.

"HELP! Somebody help him!"

There was no response beyond the shattering of glass and a soft whimpering from one of the nearby rooms and she looked at him, biting at her bottom lip before vaulting over him. Her body collided with the door before her hand could turn the knob and she bashed it open to find another office, much like the one she had abandoned. A portly woman with frizzled hair crouched behind her couch, muttering to herself and scribbling furiously in a notebook, her pen stabbing through the paper in her fervor. At the slim girl's entrance, the elder woman unleashed a shriek and Alyx ducked the notepad hurled at her head with familiar ease.

"Please, we need your help!" she begged, kneeling beside the woman and tugging desperately on her sleeve. The woman curled into a ball and shook her head as she sobbed, refusing to look at the young girl who stood and dashed from the room. She slid across the slick linoleum and she grabbed the arm of the bench for support as her knees crashed against the floor but she took no notice as she peered at the stammering boy who scrawled incomprehensibly upon the floor with one hand and ripped out chunks of hair with the other.

"Stop. Please, please stop," she urged, shaking him in an attempt to stir him from the hysteria that gripped him. Tears brimmed in her eyes before running down her pale cheeks in rivulets and her words were twisted by an abrupt sob as she tried to recall his name, "I-I-I'm sorry, He-Herman? Oh, god. I don't know how to stop it . . . I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry . . ."

She paused in her tumbling apologies as she remembered a gentle tune that had drifted through the eves of her younger years. Her mother had told her it was an old song, from before her family had come to America, and it had quelled any nightmares that haunted her sleep or any sorrows that plagued her waking hours. However, she had not heard the song in years, her parents too consumed by their own terrors to chase away her own. Reaching back into her memories, she shakily murmured, "The moon is bright, the . . . the . . . the wind is quiet . . ."

His spastic jerks and throws were growing weaker and his hands had stilled though still remained poised, ready to continue with their previous actions. The jittery gaze tried to focus on her before flashing elsewhere, distracted by phantoms dancing before his eyes. He continued to open and close his lips in silent utterances, frail whispers beyond her hearing as she continued the lullaby.

"The tree leaves hang over-over the window . . . my little baby, go to sleep quickly; sleep, dreaming sweet dreams . . ."

Hesitantly, she brushed the hair hanging in his eyes before carefully removing his hand. She floundered for a moment, struggling to remember further words before she simply began the song anew, urging serenity upon the slowly calming youth. The howls and wails from the rooms along the hall began to subside and her shoulders sagged as she released a tired sigh, closing her eyes in a rare moment of relief.

"Hey."

Her eyes blinked open to meet the mismatched gaze that stared up at her curiously before small fingers reached up to brush against her cheek, causing her to flush. He studied the tear captured on his finger with a strangely serious expression before his gaze returned to her.

"Why're you crying?"

"I'm not, stupid. You were kicking about and you hit me on the nose. Made my eyes water," she snapped, switching to anger to cover the fear and sorrow as she wiped away the budding tears with her arm.

"What happened?" he asked, tilting his head.

"You don't remember?" she asked incredulously.

"I remember that instances of uncontrollable crying and other such displays are a symptom of the psuedobulbar affect," he reported matter-of-factly, as though reciting something that he had heard or read, and she furrowed her brow at him.

"You talk smart, but I still think you're kinda dumb," she accused suspiciously and he beamed up at her in response.

"I told you; I talk just fine. Maybe you're the one with the problem if you can't hear me," he suggested and she rolled her eyes before chuckling and shaking her head. Her mirth built, still riding on the high emotions she had just experienced and she soon broke into full laughter that he joined in on as men and women in the rooms began to stir.

* * *

**Swineford National Bank, Jump City. 0858 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014**

Years later and miles away, a pale girl slid through the automatic doors into the brightly lit lobby of a small bank, populated by its faithful customers who refused the services of a larger institution. Quaint and secluded, it was safe from the typical super villain or unpowered bank robber and several of its patrons favored it for that very reason. A single, aging security guard remained on the premises, collecting a paycheck as he spent the days reading a newspaper. Business was usually slow, but a short line had formed before the two teller windows that were open and nobody seemed in a hurry to depart as they all chatted amicably.

The stranger regarded the group hesitantly for a moment before sidling to the end of the line. A grey billed cap was pulled down tight upon her head, obscuring a straight view of her face, and she hunched her shoulders in an olive green jacket. Pausing in his consideration of the crossword puzzle, the guard warily eyed the girl with growing unease though quickly looked away when her shaded glance swung towards him. Ahead of her, the woman in line gave a small shiver, goosebumps erupting along her skin as her baby squirmed and whined in his stroller, his nap suddenly turning fitful. Throughout the room, a chill spread and familiar faces turned threatening as customers hurriedly completed their transactions.

The line shrank faster than it ever had and the patrons hurried to conclude their business as the girl approached the counter. Quickly devising an excuse, one of the tellers placed a placard in the window and ducked into the backroom, leaving a plump woman with the stranger. She glared after her colleague before affixing a shaky smile to her face as the dark-haired girl stopped in front of her.

"And what can I help you with today, young lady?" she said as brightly as she could manage.

"You can't help me," she answered, keeping her gaze down as a man in a business suit approached the door and frowned in surprise when it did not open. "Nobody can."

The woman shuddered at a sudden chill that swept through her but forged ahead, "W-w-well, I'm sorry, dear, but then why d-did you come in here?"

"Had to," she answered as others joined the man at the door, growing increasingly frantic as it refused to open. A terrible dread possessed them and they hammered against the bulletproof glass as the girl continued, "I had to do something."

She lifted her dark green eyes as the doors suddenly opened and a howling roared through the minds of the patrons and tellers, driving them to the floor. Gazing at the fallen woman who gasped and twitched upon the floor, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

* * *

**Titan Tower. 0647 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014**

Raven sat upon the roof of her home, legs folded and hands propped upon her knees as she admired the rising sun that painted the sky and its clouds a golden hue. She would assume her meditation shortly, but for now, she allowed herself the moment to enjoy the scene, drawing in a deep breath at the wind that rushed over her as the sun began to heat the earth. Far below, she heard the crash of the waves upon their shore, stirred to action by the zephyr that persisted for several seconds more before settling. There was a rare peace that Raven luxuriated in, briefly divorced from the everyday worries that typically plagued her as she felt her friends and teammates stir in the Tower beneath her, their emotions brightening as they joined the waking world once again.

Unsurprisingly, Robin was the first to awaken, like clockwork, and she could sense his tender caution beyond the range of his shields as she imagined him rising from bed, permitting Starfire her sleep. The alien was a continual beacon of joy that was not dimmed by her slumber and the sorceress was continually amazed that a single person could produce such a large emotional signature. After a moment, Robin transitioned to the gym where he began his rigorous morning workout, strangely pleased by the exercise program that would have left most adults breathless and on the verge of collapse. Cyborg came online, accompanied by his morning surliness that he immediately sought to remedy with a journey to the kitchen.

Although she suspected that he was sleeping, Raven could not determine Beast Boy's present state, his presence constantly guarded by the mental barrier that had grown more fortified since their encounter in the infirmary. All but the most apparent emotions, ones that she did not require her powers to determine when in his presence, were hidden and guarded behind walls that seemed to grow thicker with her every brush against them. However, he had held back from divulging her secret to their friends as far as she could tell. Before she could allow herself to be pulled into such quandaries, she remembered her purpose for seeking out the solitude of the roof in the first place and turned her back on the rising sun that would have shone through her eyelids. They closed as she raised her hands, picking up her mantra as she sought the path to tranquility.

"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos . . . Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos . . ."

The words, while not a necessity to her ritual as they had once been, were certainly helpful, giving her a point to focus upon. Their steady repetition was reliable, consistent, as they took her from a mercurial world with its frantic pace that raced towards some unknowable end. It seemed that before a new alteration could be adjusted to, it was already shifting into something else without any bearing on what it had just been. She missed the steady, assured motions of her home, the silent contemplation of the monks who had raised her over the cacophony of her new world of residence. Even with the greater control over her powers she had gained since her father's defeat, her meditation had become a means of escape from her hectic environment, one of the few holdovers from her childhood.

After an hour, her eyes opened once again and she rose, floating through a dark portal that transported her to the main room of the Tower where her friends had gathered. She inhaled the savory scent of bacon as she grabbed the plate and mug that Cyborg held towards her without breaking from his debate with the changeling. Both had long since accepted that neither was going to change his particular eating patterns, but the tradition persisted, now mostly as a performance for their teammates laced with ludicrous exchanges populated by quips and surprisingly swift repartee. At least until it devolved into a food fight after which Raven and the remainder of team usually abandoned the scene.

This particular battle ended when Beast Boy distracted his regular partner-in-crime from his sausages upon the stove long enough for smoke to begin to coil from them. As Cyborg tried to save his delectable fare, seemingly adopting the mannerisms of a doctor desperate to bring back a patient, the green boy strutted to the table with his plate, incredibly pleased with his victory. He slid into a spot on the booth beside Raven and after coating his grapefruit with a layer of sugar, tucked into his meal without sparing a glance to the girl at his side.

That had been his tactic for the last several days. He didn't go out of his way to avoid her, and when prompted, he paid her the common courtesies, but had otherwise ceased all forms of communication with her. Jokes no longer fell upon her head like rain in a torrential downpour, she no longer had to refuse requests to join in video games or movies, and she read her books without intrusion. Initially, she had been rather pleased with the situation, but that had since passed as something hollow worked its way inside her. There was a gap within her, some masochistic yearning that missed the verbal deluge he often presented her with. It was beginning to infuriate her for reasons she didn't feel like fully recognizing, and she had resolved that she would clear the air between them before the day was out.

Unfortunately, he seemed to sense her intent and after scarfing down his breakfast at a decidedly unhealthy rate, he disappeared from the room. She scowled as she downed her tea, finishing it quicker than she would have liked before taking her utensils to the sink and rinsing them. Looking back to the others, she announced, "I'm going to my room."

Starfire frowned and lifted from the table, flying over Robin's head to regard her friend with concern, "But, Raven, you and I are to journey to the mall of shopping today and purchase many pretty accessories and -"

"It's not even nine yet, Starfire. Give me a few hours to mentally prepare myself for the excursion," she interjected. She cursed herself, not literally, for failing to recall the plans Starfire had laid when she had been pondering over Beast Boy's distance the other day. Fortunately, the answer pacified the golden girl who beamed and nodded in agreement.

"May I join you in your attempt to placate your excitement?"

"I would prefer the solitude," she returned. "I'll find you later."

Before anymore protests could be offered, Raven disappeared into a dark portal that opened beneath her feet. Instead of transporting her to her room as she had said, she instead emerged before Beast Boy's door where she wrapped her knuckles against the lettering of his name.

"Beast Boy, we need to talk," she called. There was no response and she leaned closer, listening but finding none of the usual raucous roars that emerged from it. Her gaze narrowed as she opened a dark passage in the door and stepped through, finding the room deserted as she had suspected. At some point, the odor of the room had finally grown too much for his increasingly sensitive olfactory senses and he had cleared away the mess that had once inhabited it. The bunk bed persisted though the lower one was currently pushed into a couch, but Beast Boy's presence was missing.

Returning to the hallway, she furrowed her brow and considered her dilemma before teleporting herself to her room. It was dim, even after she turned the lights on, and it hadn't changed greatly since her time with the Titans beyond the perpetually growing collection of books. She had been forced to convert more wall space into book shelves and even the latest addition was on its last shelf while there wasn't much more space remaining. Ancient scrolls were collected in slotted shelves, but they were not as in great a danger of imminent overflow.

Clearing some of the books from her circular bed and sending them into the spaces she had retrieved them from, she sat upon the edge and folded her legs beneath her. Closing her eyes, she focused inward and disconnected her astral self from her physical, floating outside her body. The world about her became blurry and faded, like an old photograph attempting to capture a sudden burst of action even when nothing moved. She watched her body a moment, assuring the even rise and fall of her chest that signified continued bodily functions before departing.

While many of her natural senses were diminished, if not outright inoperable, in her astral state, it enhanced her empathy. She was nearly blinded by the flare of Starfire's undiscriminating love for all, and it took a moment for her to adjust to it. Her other friends were apparent, Cyborg's rage at his condition buried under his incredible willpower. It was easier to gauge Robin now, no longer reliant upon his drowsiness to peer at his emotions though they remained guarded and not fully apparent. Compassion fueled his quest for heroism, but as with everything, it was not alone. There was a yearning, a hidden eagerness to please the father figure he had left on the other side of the continent. Beyond their present states, she could see the remnants of their passage, emotions lingering upon their passage and the objects that they had touched.

Beast Boy had made his way to the pool on the lower floor of the Tower and he jetted through the water, moving at a rate that assured her wasn't his human form. Most of his emotions remained bottled, but there was a curious mix of fear and hope that she could detect but not determine the source of. Despite having completed her intention of finding him, she refrained from returning to her body and wondered if now, in this empowered state, she could breach his walls. Tentatively, she reached out, testing his defenses and for a second, she thought that there was a chance of access but then there was the sudden flare of anger, meager enough to be mere annoyance, but it was enough to convince her to conduct an expeditious retreat.

She gasped, sucking in a great breath of air as her astral self collided with her body, anchoring itself once again. With a wince, she flexed her limbs that had gone stiff and groaned as she stood, stretching her shapely legs before focusing upon her task. Pulling her cloak about her, she sank into a dark portal and emerged into the muggy air of the pool room. It had been a curious inclusion in the design considering they had a beach outside their door, but Beast Boy had fought for its inclusion and used it more than any of his peers thought he would. At the moment, he was a penguin that flashed through the likely chilled water, moving with grace and speed usually absent upon the land. He seemed unaware of the intrusion and for the moment, she did not break his focus as she glided to the end of the pool, standing at the edge and waiting for him.

There was a flicker of annoyance from his mind, and he proceeded to complete several more laps before picking up speed to leap from the water, bringing with him a wave of water that Raven deflected with an irritated shield. Demonstrating greater coordination than his current form implied, Beast Boy crossed his fins over his chest and regarded the sorceress with his blank, white gaze. Raven glared down at him, setting a hand upon her hip as she frowned.

"How much longer are you going to keep sulking?" she demanded.

"Don't know," he shrugged. "Why don't you go ahead and scan my head to find out?"

She folded her arms over her chest, "You act like I've committed some great invasion of privacy, and in doing so, you seem to forget the times you've hacked our personal files."

"That's just information. I'm not reading minds or anything like that. I'm not picking around in people's thoughts or anything like that," he countered.

"But that does not make it any less of an intrusion. You share your own story sparingly, but you don't falter in accessing our own."

"That's old information! If people didn't want it known, they shouldn't have let it be recorded!" he said as he finally shifted into his human form though his fangs seemed marginally more pronounced. "That's not rooting around in a dude's head for stuff he doesn't wanna share!"

"I never 'rooted around' in anybody's head!"

"Really? So that little prod there before you came in - that wasn't you?"

"I-I - that wasn't -"

She was saved by the shriek of the siren and she was more thankful for it than she ever had been before. Beast Boy did not share her relief and his gaze was flat as he stalked towards the exit.

"To be continued," he muttered.

* * *

**Swineford National Bank. 0927 Hours, 10 AUGUST 2014**

The team had been summoned to one of many of Jump City's banks, albeit one of the smaller ones, but instead of the usual standoff signaled by the sirens and imposing SWAT vans, it had been guarded by a single squad car occupied by a pair of trembling officers. They had been able to provide only the most meager of information, reporting that they had received a call from a modulated voice and a hidden number, advising them to contact the team and providing them with an address. When they had arrived to investigate, they had found the place empty beyond lingering personal effects. Their attempts at delving further had quickly come to an end when both dropped, blubbering and consumed by a terrible dread that prompted them to crawl away until they were free of whatever had gripped them.

Without hesitation, the team had entered and Raven's first breath was filled with fear. Not from her teammates, but a deeper source within the quaint business, beneath the crooning of the music projected from the speakers in the ceiling. Apprehension colored her teammates and they suspiciously readied whatever arsenal was at their command while they regarded the seemingly deserted structure. A pocketbook's contents was scattered across the floor, a baseball cap lay abandoned at one of the teller windows. Beast Boy changed into a bloodhound, sniffing curiously at the floor and knickknacks scattered across it before growing back into his typical shape.

"There's a bunch of scents here, all fresh," he reported as Robin frowned.

"Any idea where they went?"

"They're all over the place. Too jumbled to track them. Also, I am now fairly certain that at least one of those cop dudes maybe-sorta wet himself, which, you know, isn't exactly helping me figure anything out," he shrugged.

"Hold up," Cyborg said. His limb had shifted into a dish-like device that he scanned the building with, one hand up to his mechanical ear. "I'm pickin' something up. BB, you hear anything?"

Shifting again, he dropped into the form of a fennec fox, looming ears swiveling about as he leaned forward, blank eyes narrowing in concentration. His countenance shifted in a manner not easily deciphered by humans, but Raven could sense the shiver of horror as he muttered, "Is that . . . screaming?"

"Sounds like it," Cyborg said grimly before striding forward, rounding the counter. He was followed closely by the changeling who bounded through one of the windows, noting the half-eaten sandwich lying on a wrapper before jumping down. The other Titans followed their comrades into the back room where they had stopped at the rectangular door of the vault. Cyborg was examining it and Beast Boy was sniffing furiously before looking up at their approaching friends.

"All those smells are here. Well, minus the pee one," Beast Boy said.

"There's people inside here," Cyborg added as he tested the door running his hands over it. "Fortunately, the owner's cheap and decided not to get the airtight model. Now we just need to figure out how to get them get them out of there."

A deep pain began to pulse within Raven's skull and she gave a small gasp as she pressed a hand against her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and when they opened, a ghastly figure floated before them. Fully white and softly glowing, she opened her mouth, snake-like in its width, and she unleashed an unearthly shriek that hammered furiously on Raven's eardrums, dropping her to her knees. She winced and tried to block out the noise with her hands, but the spectral wail penetrated her meager barrier and she released a whine. There was a touch upon her shoulder and the howl faded away to be replaced by more familiar voices.

"Raven! Raven! Friend, what is wrong?"

She lifted her gaze to find Starfire at her side, hand offering support as her other friends looked on in concern. The sorceress blinked as she straightened and wrapped her cloak tighter about her as she suspiciously considered their surroundings. Instinctively, she reached out with her mind, searching for any emotions to provide some explanation as to what she had seen. There was the worry broadcasted by her friends, but she sensed it for only a second before the tidal wave of fear crashed down upon her. It washed away everything else, saturating every thought, soaking every corner of her mindscape and distorting the world about her. The reassuring hand upon her shoulder became claws searching for her heart, her friend's glances contorted into malicious leers, and even their shadows flickered with sinister intent.

With a breath, she closed off her mind, forced away the fear, and finally answered, "I'm fine. But we need to get that door open and those people out. Now."

"Trust us, Raven. Cyborg and I are working as fast as we can," Robin assure her. She opened her mouth to reiterate the necessity of alacrity when there was a sudden boom as the bolts retracted and the door creaked, weighing heavily upon its hinges. The Boy Wonder smirked, "Nice timing."

"I appreciate the compliment, but, uh . . . that wasn't me," Cyborg answered as he stood, studying the door uneasily. Broken sobs emerged from within and he opened the door wider, revealing crimson streaks that painted the inside of the portal, to show the huddled crowd that had been trapped within.

Men and women gibbered in sheer terror, tears streaming down their faces as they cowered upon the floor of the small room. One sobbed brokenly, fingers, their nails and skin stripped clutching at his head and their red stain was evident on his clothes and other parts of his body. Another man paced fiercely from one wall to another, muttering desperately to himself as he performed violent gesticulations regardless of any in their path. A woman clutched at her children desperately, glancing frantically at phantom visions dancing before her eyes. Crouched in a corner was a gangly figure with a shadowed stare that shifted quickly about the room as he rapidly huffed and sucked in breaths.

"I-i-i-it's g-gotta work, gotta work . . . _Gonna _work. She said it'd work," he huffed frantically, hiding behind his long, bony fingers. His face contorted into an expression of rage and he slammed a fist against the boxes upon the wall. "_Better _work . . . rip her up, bleed . . . monsters . . ."

"Take it easy, folks. We're here to help," Cyborg assured them as he entered to lift a portly woman to her feet. Unfortunately, she reacted to his approach with a bloodcurdling shriek, backpedaling away and throwing up her arms in defense. The massive teen faltered and frowned, flashing back to times before had join the Titans when his appearance had not earned him the warmest of welcomes. Behind him, he heard Beast Boy give a short bark followed by a sound that sounded like a collision of several, inhuman vocal cords. He glanced back worriedly to see the changeling stumbling backwards, hands going to his head as he grunted softly though the sound emerged garbled through the fangs that bristled within his mouth.

"Hey, BB. You all right?"

At his friend's voice, he lifted his head to reveal milky white eyes, and unleashed a roar generally reserved for the saurian members of the animal kingdom. Cyborg took a step back as something clattered against the floor, and he glanced over to see Robin absent-mindedly pulling his hair out, shaking his head slightly but seemingly oblivious to the pain.

"That can't be right. It can't. It has to be right, but right now it's not right, right? Right. Which means it has to be left," he muttered, gaze focused on the ground as he mechanically reached up and tore away a few more dark strands. Beast Boy continued to growl and menace anybody in his vicinity, but his snapping teeth and claws never touched skin.

"Something freaky is definitely goin' on in here," murmured the large teen. He turned towards his remaining comrades and groaned, "Oh, c'mon, Star. Not you too."

The golden girl was hovering in the air, a starbolt cradled in her palms with a tenderness that would have made Silkie envious. She cooed to it lovingly, whispering sweet promises to the emerald sphere that bobbed mindlessly before her. A finger traced over its fluctuating surface before she kissed it, almost shyly and Cyborg slapped his palm against his face, wincing at the metal hand that collided with a mostly human face.

"This isn't good," he grumbled.

"I should say not," agreed the tin can floating at his side. "That red-headed floozy is stealing my boyfriend!"

"Cyborg!"

The vision of the rusty can valiantly rushing at Starfire left his head and he sucked in a deep breath as he glanced down towards a trembling Raven. As he realized that it had been her voice to pull him from his temporary delusion, though he noted with a heavy heart that his friends still seemed afflicted, the tiny sorceress pitched forward. He caught her and looked worriedly at her face, sweat beaded upon her grey skin and brow furrowed in concentration. His sensors informed him that her heart was hammering at rates far beyond the norm of the stoic girl before one of his fingers began to unravel into thread. He was abruptly yanked back into reality again, anchored by the girl in his hands, and he heard though he was underwater.

"Victor. We need to get out of this room. You need to get us out of here."

He thought he gave a nod, but he wasn't entirely certain as he lurched forward, carrying the cloak-wearing mannequin over the floor of spaghetti that was slowly flooding with Tabasco sauce. Bubbles rose from the fall of his heavy feet, drifting up towards his head where they popped in a disconnected babble.

"most th."

Vic."

Kee."

"ere."

"tor."

"p going."

"Al."

Pushing onward, he felt the world cracking and shifting as the visions bled away, leaving only the room outside the vault and Raven still clenched in his grip. He released her when he noticed the discomfort accompanying her relief and she caught herself several inches above the ground, hovering. Groaning at the pounding of his brain against his skull, like it believed itself a champion boxer, he pressed a hand to his head.

"I - that was - What just happened?"

"A psychic attack. Something attempted to drive us insane."

"'Something?' Whattaya - never mind. What about the others? They okay?" he looked past her towards the vault where their friends still suffered in the hands of the 'something' that had gripped them. Before he could retrieve them, a slender hand that was dwarfed by his powerful frame pressed against his chest, halting his advance.

"It seems to be weaker here. Your electronic components and natural resilience disrupted its effect on you, which is why I was able to pull you out. But it sapped me more than I thought it would," she stated in a detached manner but Cyborg recognized that she was understating her condition. Her face was haggard and shone with a layer of perspiration, eyes looking as though they had not seen sleep in weeks. She attempted to disguise her unsteady swaying beneath her cloak, but he could feel the intermittent pressure from the hand still upon his chest every time she caught herself. Grabbing her wrist, he guided her to the floor, leaning her back against the wall, and he grimly noticed that she was too weak to offer any protest.

"Take it easy. You're about to drop," he said, adjusting her and then standing up. Her hand caught his before he could move away again and he paused, looking back to her as she regained her wind.

"You can't go in there," she warned.

"But we can't just leave them in there!"

"If you go in there, and start to lose your mind again, I don't . . . I don't know if I could pull you out again," she admitted, her voice growing very small. It caused Cyborg to sag slightly, features painted with concentration as he considered his friends. He kept the worry from his face, unaware that Raven could feel it regardless, before he suddenly brightened and turned back towards her.

"You could use your powers and levitate them out!"

"Even if I was strong enough, the portion of my soul infused in whoever I carried would likely transmit the madness that seizes that person to me, but without my full defenses," she pointed out.

"That's fine. Already thought up a back-up plan," he smiled confidently as he lifted an arm. Carefully aiming his open hand at the redhead sweet talking her starbolt, he placed his other hand against his bicep to steady his limb before his hand and forearm fired forward. Detaching at his elbow, it shot towards his ally, and a cable tethered the limb to the rest of him. His splayed fingers missed Starfire by inches as she abruptly began to twirl about, and he held back a curse as his arm continued forth. It smashed into a wall of safety deposit boxes, tearing apart the metal and crumpling them. He gave a weak chuckle as he retracted his limb, pointedly ignoring Raven's slow clapping.

"Just need to adjust the power settin's, is all," he assured her.

"You should probably test it on Beast Boy next, just to be sure," she suggested with a touch more malice than the usual barbed comment.

Ignoring her remark, he calibrated his limb's propulsion system and launched it again, managing to catch Robin's shoulder without shattering any bones. He looked to Raven with a smug grin and she rolled her eyes before offering the conciliatory ovation that seemed, in part, mocking. Focusing on the fidgeting Boy Wonder who seemed intent on driving himself bald, Cyborg began to reel him in when there was a sudden creaking sound that gave him pause. When he heard nothing else in the interim, he continued his steady pull only to hear the creaking again, which stalled him again.

"Maybe you should invest in some oil," Raven said.

"Don't look at me," he huffed. "It's probably ghosts."

As though to punctuate his statement, the vault door slammed shut, cutting off the cable attached to the remainder of his limb. The locks shifted and slanted into place with a booming note of finality as Cyborg tried to pull the remainder of the cord free and Raven vaulted to her feet, flashing to the door. Angrily, Cyborg lifted his head and shouted at the ceiling.

"I was jokin'!"

"Are you hurt?" Raven asked, reaching out to touch the stump as he disconnected the cable, leaving it hanging from the door.

"Hurt? No. Gettin' a little bit annoyed with whatever freakiness is goin' on around here? Absolutely," he grumbled. "Good news is, we still got some eyes in there."

There was a whir and a portion of his chest extended and unfolded into a small monitor with several buttons arrayed along the bottom. The screen blinked to life, displaying a blue screen before shifting to a mass of shadows as his fingers still gripped Robin's cloak. Tapping one of the buttons, his arm dropped to the floor and detached from the cable trapped in the door. He smiled as he expertly tapped at the buttons, maneuvering his detached arm about to show the different occupants still trapped within.

"Booyah. Eat your heart out, Inspector Gadget."

"Pleases stop comparing yourself to cartoon characters, and - wait. What was that?"

"Where?" he asked, halting the camera's progress.

"Back to the right and up on the - there!"

Her finger tapped the screen at a point between the hyperventilating man and the woman with her child. She asked, "Can you magnify it?"

"I'll just get closer," he offered. His fingers danced again and his arm arm scuttled forward until its path was suddenly impeded by a familiar green face. Fangs jutted from Beast Boy's mouth in multiple, uneven rows and thick saliva rolled from between them, hanging ponderously upon his chin like ripe apples refusing to abandon their branch. White eyes watched the camera interestedly as he crouched before it and Raven could almost imagine a feline tail sprouting from his back, its tip twitching excitedly in the air. After a few experimental sniffs, he leaned back again and hissed before a thick fluid exploded from his mouth and coated the camera.

"Oh, no. No, he didn't. There's no way - that little grass stain just used the Super Spit! He just used the Super Spit on my _hand_!" Cyborg wailed.

"The Super Spit?"

"Y'know what a hagfish is?"

"No," she admitted.

"Don't learn," he advised. "At least this gives me a chance to test the taser."

There was a clicking sound followed by a yelp and the blurred image in front of the camera jumped back but grew larger once again as it pounced forward.

"You should try a higher setting."

"Stop backseat drivin' my arm. And what's up with all this hostility between you and good ol' green genes? Lovers' spat?" he wondered as the taser clicked in warning, followed by another shout, and the changeling decided that his curious new prey was not worth the fight it was putting up and meandered away. Cyborg guided his limb forward, vision distorted by the slime that clung to it, but the wall was a difficult target to miss.

"We aren't lovers," she snarled at him. "And there's nothing 'up' with us."

"I'm fairly certain one of those old books of yours has something about a lady protestin' too much."

"Perhaps we could focus on saving our friends."

"I'm pretty good at multi-taskin'," he returned.

"Such pretty fire . . . I want to touch it. Touch it. Feel it burn. Burn. Burn. Burn."

"And the award for creepiest civilian goes to the skinny dude in the corner," Cyborg muttered as he guided his limb up the wall. It was difficult to distinguish anything more than colors upon the screen given the obstruction, but he paused as he came upon the black scrawl across the deposit boxes. The camera leaned forward and brushed against one of the doors, attempting to clear away the slime with varying degrees of success. He frowned at the poor quality of the image but redirected it towards the discrepancy and squinted at the letters.

"Is . . . Is that . . . I'm sorry, I have no idea," he confessed.

"I believe it says 'Deimos,'" Raven mumbled, gazing intently at the image. The letters were barely distinguishable but she could make out enough to rationalize the old name that explained the events. Fear began to set into her, chilling her to her very soul and she felt as though she was drowning in it.

"Deimos?" Cyborg frowned and his organic eye shifted about worriedly, picking up on her mounting horror.

"Greek god of terror, usually to the point of madness. He was a servitor and son of Ares who assisted him in his duties upon the battlefield. I've heard rumors that Wonder Woman's faced him several times, but he's usually not alone. He's usually accompanied by -"

"Phobos. God of fear. Though, this time, 'goddess' might be more appropriate."

They turned in unison towards the dark barrel of the shotgun, a Mossberg 500, aimed between them, ready to jerk towards either, and far enough away that neither could easily reach it, even if they could overcome the fright that froze their breath. It was the dread that had followed them since they had entered the building, setting them on edge and to watching the shadows. There was no hallucination of their deepest terrors or a distortion of the world's perception besides seeing it all through raw, choking horror.

Braced against the weapon was a lean girl with alabaster skin that made unsoiled snow seem dark while hair blacker than pitch cascaded well past her shoulder blades. Jutting from her lower lip was a metallic spike, one of the many adornments laced through her smooth skin, matching the gleaming trio of hoops in her brow and asymmetrical arrangement in her ears. There was a tear near the top of one of them as though a former occupant had been violently torn out. Slender, green eyes observed them with something akin to boredom, and the extraneous belts, buckles, and metal points of her pale ensemble clattered together as she shifted slightly, the crimson tinged edges of her ruffled skirt rustling against each other. She towered over the kneeling heroes on platform boots that reached to her knees and were capped with metal plates designed to look like skulls.

Keeping the firearm steady with one hand, finger lounging against the trigger, she reached up with the other and adjusted a microphone that led to a device in her ear.

"All right, Deimos, go ahead and get your air mask on, sweetie," she instructed, the rough tone from her initial statement dropping into a smoother, gentler manner that was almost maternal in nature.

"She's burning so, so bright . . . I want to touch her . . . Feel my skin blister and nerves scream . . ."

"Of course you do, sweetie, but let's try to focus right now. Do you remember the numbers?"

"Numbers, numbers, circling in my head . . . Hear that chant; they want me dead," he sang.

Within the vault, the ragged man in the corner unfolded from his crouched position and glanced about the room at the men and women sinking into his madness. He was abnormally thin, gaunt to the point where he looked like skin stretched over a skeleton rather than a complete human being and his skull was almost visible through the papery skin stretched across his head. Gangly fingers danced restlessly at his side as he swayed back and forth. Heterochromatic eyes, one a pale blue and the other a forest green, slid about the room, searching the boxes before he stepped forward, gliding around the other occupants of the increasingly warm room. Fingers jammed into the pocket of his worn jeans and he pulled out a pair of keys, each carefully marked with their corresponding numbers, and he shoved the first into its slot, opening the small.

Within the box was a well-maintained MAC-10 accompanied by several full magazines, one of which he slid into the weapon and stuffed the remainder into his pockets. His wrist slipped through the strap on the firearm's grip and he pushed it up to dangle from his shoulder, ensuring the safety was on before returning his attention to the box. There was a strange device, shaped vaguely like a 'T' with the cross section clearly intended to be a sort of handle and a red button for the thumb. Its end was open and bristled with oddly shaped components, and he hooked it into a belt loop. The final occupant of the deposit box was a dark, metallic face plate with a strap that he wrapped about his head, pressing the front of it to his mouth and nose. Once secured, his breath rasped through it and he crouched to the second box, larger than the previous one and turned the key in its lock.

Its contents were not as numerous, merely a voluminous dufflebag carrying an air tank that Deimos slid onto his back after sliding his MAC-10 through the loops. He plugged its tube into his faceplate and activated the communications to announce, "All set up in here."

"Good to hear, sweetie. Now grab everything valuable, and you can pick where we go for dinner," Phobos instructed.

"No, no. Already ate this week. Still too fat," he shook his head, wincing at the action. He pressed his hand against his temples and wrenched his eyelids closed. His lips twitched as he ground his teeth together and then softly counted, "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. Al - Phobos. You there?"

"I'm here, sweetie. Always. You okay?"

"No," he answered miserably. "Are you sure you're not just another voice?"

"If I am, I'm a very convincing one. I'm holding two Titans hostage."

"Oh. Good. I was worried you weren't real. Sorry."

"That's all right, sweetie. Now, get stealing. I've got boots to buy."

"Got it," he chirped as he crouched next to the gasping man who had been pacing the room seconds before. Sweat was beginning to coat the man's skin but Deimos took no interest in that as he picked through his pockets. Wallet and glittering watch were tossed into the bag while the loose butterscotch candies were quickly shoved into the thin man's pocket before he moved to the next victim in the increasingly hot room.

Outside the small space, Cyborg and Raven still fought not to be consumed by terror, the latter's eyes searching for a potential weapon. Her efforts did not go unnoticed and there was a sudden pain as the air was pushed from her lungs, the butt of the shotgun was slamming into her stomach. Cyborg dredged up the courage to move but stopped as Phobos steadied the weapon and directed its muzzle towards him.

"Stay. Or else we find out how many shots it takes to get to your gooey center," she menaced. "In fact, it would probably be best if both of you settled down. Deimos and I didn't have any plans to hurt anybody - much - but we're adaptable."

"I'm startin' to think that you two ain't exactly gods," Cyborg muttered as Raven straightened.

Phobos nodded to her armament, "Not quite. But this little guy smites with the best of them, so take your chances."

"So what was the whole point in callin' us down here?" he asked.

"Are you trying to trick me into making one of those monologues?" she demanded. Her thin eyes narrowed further and her grip tightened on her shotgun, a finger caressing the trigger.

"No tricks," he said, lifting his remaining arm and spreading his fingers. "Just curious. Most crooks try to avoid us. It's a lil' bit hurtful."

She snorted, mouth twisting into a smirk and her gaze shifted between the large youth and the sorceress before she nervously licked her lips. Keeping her weapon trained towards them and ready to put to use, she answered, "The plan was for all five of you to get trapped in the vault, all overwhelmed by fear and whatever madness you caught from Deimos. That way, we could grab whatever we wanted without having to worry about you guys interrupting us."

"But Raven pulled me out and we were pullin' more out of the vault," Cyborg supplied.

"Yeah," she grimaced. "Couldn't get the door closed in time. But, as long as you don't do anything stupider than dressing up in spandex and saving people for free, we should be able to get out of here without anybody getting hurt."

Within the sealed room, Deimos hummed a song to himself, one that Phobos had taught him, to keep himself focused on his task. It descended into mumbling before stopping entirely as he glanced towards Starfire who sat against a melting wall and cooed to the burning energy playing between her fingers. He stilled and the desire to seize the blaze roared through him, demanding an inferno before it was satiated and he winced, closing his eyes as visions he knew to be false danced before them. Phantom sounds spun about him and he whimpered before counting down again, under his breath. The voices lapsed into silence and he cautiously opened one eye, assuring they were gone before straightening and sighing with relief.

Turning to the next deposit box, he dropped the half-filled duffel bag and pushed the weapon's strap back onto his shoulder as he pulled the strange device from his belt. His fingers curled about the handle, its short post emerging from between his middle and index fingers. Carefully aligning the end with the keyhole of the box, he held it firmly in place before his thumb pressed the red button on the end. The device pushed back against his arm, but he did not allow it to move and was rewarded with a sound akin to the muted blast of gunfire. Returning the device to his belt loop, he hooked a finger in the hole that had been punched through the lock and pulled the door open. He paid little attention to what treasures he unearthed as he pulled out the long boxes, and simply emptied them into the bag, knowing that Phobos could find a market for anything.

As he worked, he soon found himself humming again before remembering the words that accompanied the tune.

"The moon is bright, the wind is quiet; the tree leaves hang over the window; my little baby, go to sleep quickly; sleep, dreaming sweet dreams . . ."

As he sang to himself, he failed to note the faint movement out of the corner of his eye that did not come from one of his hostages.

Raven could feel the fear boosting her own worries and concerns, turning the thought of the bruise that would form from the blow into a rising suspicion that she was suffering internal bleeding. Any thoughts of her friends immediately darkened into nightmares and she was forced to push them from her mind, focusing on the current situation she was trapped in. Closing her eyes to take a calming breath, which was turned into a shudder by the fear, she released it and opened her gaze onto their captor.

"If you could plan all this, you should be more than smart enough to hold down a legitimate job. Why are you endangering yourself and your partner with these antics?" Raven wondered as a distraction from her own mounting worries.

"Hah! Right. I could totally see how that interview would go. 'Hey, remember that chick from earlier? What, the one that had everybody pissing their pants in abject terror just by being here? Yeah, her. We should totally get her a job here.' That would work out so well," she snorted derisively. Her tone and expression sobered as she continued, "Besides, I don't have the marketable skills for anything that can support me _and_ Deimos - besides, y'know, robbing folks. Which, I should note, I'm pretty good at that."

"Wouldn't have guessed," Cyborg grumbled.

Phobos chuckled before asking, with evident curiosity, "Hey, those energy bolt things your alien lobs around - they burn oxygen?"

"She's used them in space before but I wouldn't be surprised if they did when there was oxygen in the environment," Cyborg supplied.

"Good. That'll simplify things," she said. After a moment, she continued conversationally, "Y'know, aside from that little incident earlier, you two have been remarkably good hostages, and I want to thank you for that."

"While I appreciate the thought, I have to be honest. You aren't totally inspirin' me to Stockholm Syndrome here," Cyborg admitted. It inspired a burst of harsh laughter from her, but she stopped as the lullaby in her earpiece suddenly ended in a sharp grunt and did not start back up. Keeping the concern from her face and eyeing the pair suspiciously, she cautiously reached up to press at the small headset.

"Deimos, sweetie, you there? What's going on? . . . Sweetie, I need you to answer me. C'mon, c'mon. Sweetie? Henry?"

Her tone was growing increasingly frantic and though she tried to focus on the heroes, she glanced away for a second, and Raven did not waste the opportunity. She gather her will, forging through the overflowing fear to grind out her mantra, and the Mossberg flew up to smash into Phobos's face. A snarl escaped from her lips as blood burst from her nose and the black energy still encasing the weapon tore it from her grasp. It hovered in the air for a moment before it was snapped and the individual pieces allowed to clatter to the floor before the dark-haired girl.

With a growl that her powers twisted into something guttural and inhuman, Phobos pounced upon the heroes who flinched away. Raven was tackled to the floor and she tried to cover herself from the sloppy bows before the weight was suddenly lifted off her and she peered up to see Cyborg struggling to keep a grip on the back of the short girl's neck. Swinging her legs up, the criminal lashed out with both of them towards Cyborg's head and managed to catch his chin. Her strength surprised him and he released her as he stumbled backwards from the blow. Dropping roughly to the floor, she quickly rolled to her feet and roared, "Enough!"

The glow of power flickered and disappeared from Raven's eyes and she took a shuddering gasp before crumpling to the floor, struggling to regain her breath as she quailed and trembled. Cyborg was reduced to a similar state and as Phobos stepped over him, she took the opportunity to savagely kick him, denting his chassis before proceeding to the vault door. She paused, licking at the blood trickling from her nose and staining her upper lip, and grimaced before she spit it onto the floor.

Slapping a hand upon the handle of the vault, she tugged but found it unmoving, and she dropped her grip. With a groan, she ran her hand down her hair before sighing and reaching into her pocket to retrieve a dark cellphone. Navigating to her messages, her finger sped across the scene and sent her request before she slipped it back into her pocket. Setting her hands on her hip, she scowled as she was forced to wait only to be interrupted by the sharp crack of breaking glass.

She whirled about to see a black field spreading from about Raven as she lost the battle to rein in her emotions, and it passed over a nearby window, splintering it into spidery cracks. Shards began to fall from it, slowly chiming against the window sill before trickling to the floor as the pace increased. Phobos took a pronounced step backwards and glanced at her fellow youths who tried to rise above the relentless waves of dread that poured from her, and, for a brief second, there was a look of apology and sorrow, a twist of her lips strangely akin to regret. Then she turned at the sound of the bolts sliding out of place and hurriedly pulled the door open. A blast of heat, worthy of an oven, rolled from the room, but she dashed to the sprawled form of Deimos. Lying next to him was Cyborg's disconnected arm, fingers curled into a fist and now inert with its wielder crippled by horror.

The temperature was evening out in the two rooms as Phobos scooped her partner onto her shoulders, making a mental note to start ensuring he actually ate his meals. She hefted the duffel bag into her spare hand and struggled with her cargo for a minute before getting it onto her shoulder. Finally, she slipped the MAC-10 from his shoulder and wrapped its cord about her arm, securing her hold upon it. As she made to exit, Beast Boy, lying on his side with his tongue lolling out, managed a growl at her and she tiredly lifted the firearm, sending a spray into the wall behind him. He whimpered and tucked into himself as she continued unimpeded to the entryway where she paused to see Raven struggling to her feet. With a resigned sigh, she raised the weapon again.

"Just lie back down. This can only end badly for you," she promised.

Grey fingers traced along the nearby wall before her palm fully pressed against it as Raven used it for support. Fear and madness howled through her mind, turning the scene nightmarish and she closed her eyes against the demons that rose before her. The image of a new set of eyes appearing upon Phobos's forehead and twisting antlers spiking upwards haunted Raven, and she clung to the island of serenity she had managed to wash ashore upon. She held herself there, gathering whatever control she could and tumbling over her mantra as she lifted the hand not occupied with keeping her standing and pushed her palm forward.

A sliver of her soul slid through the armament directed at her and she tried to break it apart, tear it from her grip, but she could barely keep the trigger in place as Phobos tried to pull it. Her control was slipping and realizing it, she made a final, desperate bid and then slumped to the floor, subjected to a chorus of whispers from inside her own mind.

Phobos scoffed as the black energy dissolved from the weapon and shook her head, "I warned you. Why doesn't anybody ever listen?"

Her finger squeezed the trigger and she was rewarded with a dull click, the weapon lifeless in her hand with its firing pin snapped by Raven's efforts. Frowning, she squeezed again, repeating the process before trying to clear the chamber, taking her eyes off her captives. Raven surged forward, throwing herself into a punch that connected with Phobos's jaw line. Deimos dropped from her shoulder and she stumbled backwards, but Raven's heart sank as the muddy eyes turned towards her, rage flashing through them.

"Forget the gun. I'm going to want to feel your face break," she seethed as she stepped forward and Raven sagged. There was a sudden green blur and Phobos pitched forward, her head bashing against the door as she fell. She groaned and seemed about to rise again before simply going limp, but that did not stop the verdant ram shifting into a wolf and snarling as he protectively prowled to stand between her and Raven. The sorceress groped forward before managing to catch a fistful of thick fur, and she pulled her self up, still on a knee as she clung to the wolf.

With the pair unconscious, it was becoming easier to organize her thoughts and block off the fear and madness the pair broadcasted, and she heard Cyborg lumber to his feet behind her. Focusing on the changeling, she brushed her hand along his head and neck, trying to instill calm in him as she whispered in his ears.

"Hush, Garfield. It's going to be all right. Just calm down. Everything's going to be all right. Sssh, sssh. It's all right," she urged and his menacing growl abated, followed shortly by the release of tension from his body. He shuddered and the fear in him was overshadowed by pain as his flesh moved under her touch and he rose into his natural form, staggering until Raven balanced him. A groan passed from his lips as he pressed his palm to the side of his head, slowly stabilizing before finally opening his eyes and glancing about.

"Whappened?" he slurred. Others began to stir, and Raven glanced back to see that Cyborg was moving Deimos away from the people, hastening their return to sanity. The woman sobbed as she clutched at her child, stroking her hair, while the man with bloodied fingers trembled as he gaped at his ragged digits. The heat of the room began to dissipate as Starfire snuffed out the emerald energy rolling from her body and she sat up, clearly groggy. Robin blinked at the tufts of hair in his hand and the dark strands that littered the floor around him.

"Your mind was flooded with dementia and terror," she answered as he pulled away, standing on his own. "You went feral."

"Yeah, I-I . . . I think I can feel that," he said before noticing the girl slumped upon the floor. He frowned and looked to the sorceress, "We win?"

"Somethin' like that," Cyborg supplied as he strode into the room. He hesitated, dread running through his inner components for a second before he pushed through it and bodily tossed Phobos over his shoulder. He exited as the others began to stand, using the walls for support as their legs threatened to give out from under them, and Raven could feel the panic that possessed them, the grief at the incident they had suffered. None of them could meet each others' eyes, quickly flickering their gaze away whenever they met, and they shuffled silently through the door, save for the occasional, broken sob that wrenched at her heart.

* * *

**Because we don't know if we're going to get a chance to reveal it within the story, Alyx regularly shaves Henry's head for him to keep him from pulling his hair out, which he is prone to doing after catching trichotillomania (that he also passed onto Robin in the above encounter). Also, the song that she sings to him is the 'Northeastern Cradle Song,' which is, according to our research, is a traditional Chinese lullaby and folk song. Alyx is third-generation Chinese-American on her mom's side.**

**So, we hope that you all enjoyed this chapter and please take the moment to review! Let us know what you think of the new villains that we introduced.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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